Here is my favorite thing about my workplace: every Friday afternoon the entire company gathers together and gives one another shout-outs. These are recognitions of […]
Gratitude for Diet Coke & Other Important Things
Because I am in one of those writing heavy modes again (. . . so, so close . . . normal writing update tomorrow), I […]
Benefit Finding
Yesterday I participated in a half-day workshop at work for our women’s group: Camp Atta Girl! The company usually puts on full-day retreats for women […]
The Cure Is Gratitude, Again
I was feeling a little pissy and on the defensive today. And honestly when I started writing it was to whine about how others aren’t […]
Saturday Gratitude
It’s been a spell since I’ve intentionally practiced gratitude. So on this lovely Saturday, I want to say some thank yous: To my Spider-Man boxer […]
Find the Good News
“What the good news?” my parents ask to start the conversation. “We want to hear good news.”
I Am So Lucky
Spending a weekend with my mom shows me the brighter side of the coin: how joyful it is to just be together and have fun. We spend more time sewing seeds than trimming branches. More time painting vision’s for the future than spreading balm on the wounds of the past. I love that about my mom. Even when I was a child, she took what I said seriously. I think it gave me faith in my voice that saved me in the foggier moments.
Nice Acrostics
Last weekend I received an unexpected card from two of my best friends. They sent it in solidarity for April 21 and the love and gratitude I felt had me crying on the edge of my bed.
A Letter to Sunday Morning Rainstorms
My favorite way to wake up is to thunder in the early hours. Rain patters on the bedroom window on a Sunday morning. I have […]
The Meaning of the Middle
My friend Jenna said something to me in the spring of 2014 that changed me. She was visiting me in Boston during our senior year of college, and I was laying out my truths for her as we walked through Cambridge: that I hadn’t been okay, that I had relapsed in self-harm, that I felt like the nearly seven years I spent not relapsing meant nothing. I had promised myself never again and I had broken that promise. Spectacularly.