The Importance of Loving Yourself

During the first two years of my daughter's life, I began to notice a correlation between really bad days and showering. Or not showering, as it was. But the connection between the two is not as straightforward and simple as it seems. My really bad days in those early years stemmed from a number of root causes: my relationship, challenging days alone with my infant daughter, navigating the jungle of urban parenting in New York City, and my struggle to balance motherhood with some semblance of the career that I still desired. 

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What Could Have Been

If I were measuring against the five stages of grief, I would say that I am currently in the "acceptance" stage 90% of the time. Which is a relief. A sweet, sweet relief. I've spent so much time in the anger and the depression phases, that I just feel relief to be mostly accepting of this situation. I still wish I weren't facing acceptance of the situation in front of me, so It doesn't necessarily feel "good." But I have resigned myself to what is, and there is solace in acceptance and letting go.

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Vern + Vern

I cried when I woke up last Wednesday morning and I kept crying for three more hours until the car pulled away and I could no longer see its shiny red bumper. That car held my sister and her family... and a little piece of my heart. A piece that is put back into place each time she and I are reunited, but it's painful — and I cry — each time my sister and that little piece of my heart drive or fly away from me. 

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Halfway There | The Health Battle: Part I

When my life splintered and shattered this year, there were so many pieces to the puzzle involving my relationship, my health and fundamentally, my entire sense of self, that I didn't know where to start.Now, as one piece makes progress and finds calm day-by-day, it helps every other piece heal (a sentence that could be referencing any one piece of the puzzle at any given moment and ring true of the others). I've truly discovered how interconnected I am, and by extension, we are. All of us.

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Thankful Thursday | June Twenty Third

Ah, my goodness. I have so much to be thankful for, and the list just keeps growing. Crazy how the simple action of tuning in to what one is grateful for reveals so many endless things to acknowledge. 

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Rising To The Road | Portsmouth, New Hampshire

The New Hampshire seacoast. How, in 34 years of life — more than half of which were spent next door in Vermont — I never managed to visit this beautiful little corner of the world, I do not know. Luckily for me and my camera, I rectified that situation last weekend. My 34th birthday fell on a Tuesday this year, which gave me a choice of two "birthday weekends." My birthday itself was absolutely wonderful, celebrated with my parents and my daughter, who made it so, so special (hearing my three year old sing a heartfelt rendition of "Happy birthday!" looking right into my eyes made my soul explode with love). But I wanted to do a little more for myself this year for a few reasons. 

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Just, Hello and Stuff

Wow. I haven't written a single post this month. Sorry about that! Except, not really. Sorry, not sorry, because a shift has been underfoot as I approached my 34th birthday on the fourteenth of this month. A shift that required me to be silent and observe. Three months ago, the only way I that felt I could move forward and through my heartbreak and grief was to write — to expel and capture how I felt, and to try to make some sense of it. Right now, what feels right is to be quiet because so much is changing, so fast, for the better. 

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Badass Mamas | Kerry Fantelli

I first met Kerry about ten years ago on the dance floor of Burlington, Vermont's Memorial Auditorium where both of us studied West African dance and drum through Jeh Kulu for many years. She was not far into her journey of single motherhood when we first met. I remember seeing the challenges she was facing at the time, as her then-very-young daughter would beg for her parents' reunion. Years later, I can closely relate to what Kerry must have been feeling at the time.

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Night Terrors

I'm up at 3 AM from a nightmare again. It's always the same plot, just different characters inset: seeing my Ex with another woman right in front of me, actively rejecting me. I wake up at two or three or four AM and battle to calm my mind as it races through our story from front to back, reminding me of every sore point. And there are many, nearly endless, sore points. 

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Thankful Thursday | May Twenty-Sixth

Back to the basics, only input that will refill the vault and recharge the batteries, and it feels so good. May has been a beautiful month, and now, as we transition into June — my birthday month and my sun sign, Gemini, into which we've already transitioned — I feel a lot of hope again. Hope and gratitude.

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Dear Brianna

As I was doing a final scrollie-scrollie through Pinterest before powering down for the night (don't judge, one monkey at a time), this Truthbomb from Danielle LaPorte dropped from the top of my screen to the bottom. I stopped and re-read it. "Grant Yourself Permission," it says. Yes, I thought to myself. Do give yourself permission. Please give me permission. And this letter began to write itself in my head.

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Thankful Thursday | May Twelfth

The month of April was a doozy. Well, both March and April really, since we returned from Australia and California to begin our new life in a small New Hampshire town. This happened, and this and this, and there were some terribly black moments full of the worst, most painful emotions. Facing so many facets of my worst nightmare at once knocked me back to the very bottom yet again, to a place of fear, rejection, absence, and failure. It was all emotionally (and therefore physically) exhausting and killed the little bit of wind that had barely begun to gain momentum and power my sails. The seas went calm.

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