Month: March 2024

Secluded?  Reclusive?  Deluded? Maybe We’re Just content.

I have become very dear friends with a growing number of goddesses who are quite frankly, and very reasonably, sick of everyone’s shit.  

In many cases it is women (like my own damn self) who spent their 20’s and 30’s “hustling” and burning that candle at both ends. Women out there doing whatever they had to do to juggle the utterly unobtainable and completely fabricated fairytale of “having it all”. What even is “IT” anyway? We were spoon fed this nonsense, and it is clearly is a myth. Nobody can have it all. Where would you put it? Let’s give the concept of all the heave ho and replace it with enough. Enough is achievable, and enough starts with falling in Love with our own magical damned selves.  Yet there we were, people pleasing, keeping the peace, being all things to everyone all the time.  Oof.  It was a lot.  And so many of us got stuck in that lane.

We are tired.  Most of us really prefer our own company these days, and if we are going to venture outside of the safety of our nests it better be for the sake of something truly magical.

We come in all shapes, sizes and all have our own unique path that led us to enjoying our own company so deeply and decidedly over most other options.  Some played a straight bat and did absolutely everything they thought they ought to be doing for most of their lives.  Others lived with brains and bodies drenched in cortisol as they were stuck in survival mode.  Many women cram their mental, physical, and/or neurological transmission into that survival mode gear thinking it will be temporary.  A deeply life altering death, a natural or financial disaster stripping them of their home or foundations, escaping an insidiously abusive and toxic relationship and needing to start over, unforeseen and major shifts in the circumstances stripping their security, a massive health issue or addiction… whatever the thing that shakes them, these women stay so strong for too fucking long.  When they come out the other side, they are often tired and perhaps a bit jaded.  A reasonable outcome after pushing through the quagmires and battlefields of their lives.  So.  You better respect that and bring the magic if you pull them away from their solitude and safety.  I mean this.  Bring the magic or let them stay home with the cat, a cuppa, and their cosy murder mysteries.

I guess people almost always have breakthrough or rock bottom moment before they are able to mic drop and start their healing journey and find comfort and luxuriate in at least some level solitude.    Many of us used to seek distraction and validation, something somewhere shifts for so many of us though.  

I suppose sometime people also hit the absolute top of their game and acquire all the points you’d think anyone would need to clock the scoreboard of life, but the view from the summit just causes something in some divine goddesses core to go “WTF! I don’t gotta be a part of this dumpster fire any longer!” and off they fuck to live happily ever after in relative solitude as they delight in obscurity and seek meaningful and magical moments and give not a single fuck what anyone might think about them as they forge that path in whatever way they decide works for them.

Whatever the hustle, or struggle, or survival story that forges these fed-up women I currently know (and admire, and seldom see IRL but deeply Love) was, we all have one thing in common:  We do not want to leave the safety and comfort of our hearth and home unless there’s something truly glimmering and magnificent that will fill up our cup or cauldron to persuade us out that door.  I have a handful of friends who can lure me out of my cave, and travel and the farm will almost always get me up and ‘attem, and everyone has different joyful distractions that will kick them into “get up and get some shit done” gear.  I think we just aren’t wasting that energy on ungrateful people or unreasonable expectations anymore.  I like this about us.

Relentless pursuit of trying to “have it all” doesn’t really seem to turn out well.  So I would suggest we can all put that square in the fuck it bucket.

Think about those shiny celebrities and influencers we seem to admire don’t have the luxury and freedom of anonymity.  Women who own/run their own businesses often do not have the option to take regular scheduled holidays or a break when they need to if they want to pay their bills or keep their brand built to a functioning level.  Women juggling family and a career are always fucking exhausted, yes, always.  Single parents frequently do not have the time, space or emotional bandwidth to date.  But each of these situations, and any number of other scenarios has its own unique silver lining that can only be seen but the person experiencing the cloud.  

Deciding to feel happy with oneself, provided the fundamental needs of food shelter and safety are met, is a pretty great level to hit, and it feels like we all had to go through a great deal of learning, winning, losing, hope and disappointment to arrive at the point where we kinda like our own company for real.  Exhaustion and being massively misunderstood most of our lives has made many a magnificent woman retreat to the safety of her own little bubble, to read, craft, create or just savor her own sweet company and spend the day however she’d fucking like to.  

What even is “IT” anyway?  That Barbie Movie monologue went a long way to shedding light on the fact that as a woman (in the Western World, I’ll qualify, as that’s my sphere of reference) you are pretty much damned if you do, damned if you don’t. So it is okay to don’t sometimes I suggest.

So many of us are pretty angry and tired at this point.

What I have noticed over the past five fabulous years is this:  

My comfort with solitude and serenity is consistently punctuated by the clarity of generally and genuinely not giving a single last flying fuckeroo about what other people do, or what they say about me, or so many other things that used to vex me.  I don’t’ just not mind if people don’t like me, I delight in being judged, because wtf who has time for that shit?  Go ahead and waste your brain power and energy having a problem with how I live my life, that’s cool.  I am happy as a pig in mud most of the time, and almost certainly never give a second thought about what other people are doing. My fucks kick back in when we are working on something cool together, or I need to go into protect my friends and family from dumbassery mode.  I give many fucks about protecting and championing my important people and their passions. And if anyone threatens us or pulls out bullshit bully tactics that are dangerous or destructive, my mean side will still show up. When shit gets real I give all the fucks.  Because we are making magic, not being judgemental boring or vapid.  We are crones with clearly defined boundaries and we make magical things happen in this weary world.

So while most of us likely won’t opt for full-fledged shut-in status in the immediate or forseeable future. I suspect, and have observed, more and more of us are leaning comfortably into the joy of our own company.  There comes a point in many women’s lives, when the kids are getting independent and our careers have come to a point we can seriously start thinking about cashing in chips and downsizing our homes to seek an new trajectory or perhaps travel and adventure (with or without a partner, depending on choice and circumstance) and it is such a privilege to be watching us all find ourselves and grow into magical beings… who often just want to be left alone.  And that’s okay.

Thanks for Reading.

If Pain is a Gift, Today I am Blessed

On Friday last week I stayed in bed most of the day after my social battery went totally flat after we attended a beautiful send off for Damon’s uncle David at the glorious goddess Auntie Ingrid’s home.  I am a big fan of Auntie Ingrid and had a lovely time laughing with Damon’s niece, his delightful dad, and some friends and neighbours as well.  Also got to catch up with Cousin Emma who is here from Boston, and of course my irrepressible and decidedly delightful mother in law Pamela.  Her brother David completely changed the face of the music and broadcasting industries in Aotearoa, and he was much loved and well-respected pain in the ass according to the speeches and songs shared in his honour.  A giant of a man in stature, charisma, and his indominable legacy.  

So my beautiful wife Damon and I snuggled in and had a quiet day on Friday.  I decided at some point to make myself some baked beans with melted cheese on top.  A fateful decision that would have deep and disastrous consequences.

Those scolding hot beans and the molten cheese attached themselves to the roof of my mouth and seared and sizzled and burned and bubbled.  I knew I’d fucked up immediately.  Burns are an insidious suffering and the echo of thousands of heat-related injuries flooded through my accident prone body and nervous system in a flash while this latest dipshittery occurred.

It is now a week later.  I am unable to talk or eat without pain.  A trip to the dentist confirmed the extreme nature of my injury and sprays, gargles and pain killers are keeping the pain dull enough that I can read my wonderful Barbara Kingsolver novel “Unsheltered” and pause now to write this quickfire blog. 

My life is certainly not terrible.  

When shit goes wrong, as it sometimes (often) does, I am reminded just how not terrible things are as terrible things kinda waft through my consciousness and concrete reality.  

Consciousness and concrete reality are really such small parts of the magic that is existence, but we place a great deal of focus on them.  Most states pass.  Joy and euphoria come and go, as do grief and despair, pain and pleasure.  It all wafts through and it is such a fucking incredible gift to experience it from a place where I know there is hope – after living a powerless and hopeless existence for such an incredibly long time. 

I am not powerless.  I am filled with hope.  Even bad days feel like a gift as somehow, now, that I have called back my life and my boundaries to my own self.  Lately, I am good even when things are not going great.

It’s so fucking weird and awesome.  

As is customary, Damon and I have been continuing to toil away at things we both Love, and also… manage to keep our shit together (just) when dealing with truly vile and disgusting people.  These vile creatures serve very little purpose on this planet, aside from reminding sensible/kind/curious/creative people how not to be boring, cowardly and disappointing cunts.  

The world needs these horid, boring, angry, annoying people.  The deepest frustration I have observed with them, however, is that they claw and con their way to positions of some level of power despite generally never having done anything interesting or useful.  This old boys club continues to be filled with cowards and cretins and it continues to protect itself despite clearly competent aspects of society (women, minorities, thinkers, creatives, truly competent and charismatic leaders, and even kindness in general) proving to be far better and more fun for everyone and everything involved.

Days like today remind me just how glad I am to have picked a side and sticking to it though.  I choose the planet, nature, community, tolerance, creativity, art, hope, and magic.  I do not choose, seek or condone ignorance, hate, greed, fascism or privilege.  All that nasty shit is just getting way too mainstream for my liking these days, and I will stay in my lane and actively condemn it until the last breath leaves my beautiful little body.

So, having inflicted a reasonably serious injury on myself, I just have to calmly manage the pain and let it heal.  I was not stressed out, or under the influence of any drugs or alcohol, or in any sort of hurry at all.  I just made a really poor decision and a week later I am rendered rather helpless.  Still able to function, more-or-less.  Had a typically perfect catch up with my darling low-drama-llama goddess Mel and her sparkling beam of light daughter.  And have had some b’ness meetings and strategy sessions and done a wee whisp of creative work this week as well.  But through it all there is a pain that ranges from dull and controlled by the codeine to seering and excruciating.

I don’t hate it.

Suspect that the reason why I do not hate it, despite pain being genuinely unfun, there’s a comfort associated with a small but notable injury.  This that goes beyond the fact I know it will heal and I will relish feeling fit and healthy even more after going through the motions of this recovery.  I feel grateful it was not a bigger or different injury and am more grateful for the bits of me that are working and the vessel that carries me being in reasonable order most of the time.

When I was young and living through a traumatic and hellish childhood/puberty there was plenty of self-harm and poor decisions leading to injury.  Now that I am safe and removed from toxic and abusive people… well, most of them… Even pain is not what it was when things were the way they were before.  Now I’ve successfully built boundaries and started to design a safe, private, simple and very satisfying life.  I have nothing to prove and don’t need anything from any fucker these days.  

Still, I relish honest and creative collaboration and connection with a community.  I thrive in situations with perfectly imperfect people doing their best and giving an actual authentic fuck about themselves and making the world bearable for themselves and others.  Community and connection for creation not self-interest. It’s its own kind of magic.

My friends have checked in and chided at me for what is clearly on brand – if something is worth doing it is worth OVER-doing.  My beautiful wife Damon has carried on important work at the farm and rushed home to nurse me in my invalid state.  Not that he can do much.  Poor thing.  He wants so much to be helpful.  I can’t eat and talking is a chore too, so he feels a bit helpless, but his presence is calming and there’s a tenderness that is so incredibly pure when one of a couple of lovebirds is injured or unwell.  

Nurse pickles (we are dog sitting) is very concerned and helpful during my recovery ❤️‍🩹

I guess, all I am saying, is that I feel awful, and that’s somehow making me feel decidedly blessed and it is wonderful.

My mouth will heal.  My friends are divine.  My kids are all on different and fascinating paths right now and I am so stressed out by and utterly proud of each and every one of them.  And I am safe.  I am safe from gaslighting, cruelty, or scary social climbing con-artists.  I am surrounded by people who are their authentic selves and perfectly imperfect in safe and interesting ways.  Feeling shitty never felt so good.

Have a great long weekend everyone.  

Much Love and thank you for reading.

It’s All About the Moon

If you aren’t already familiar with Regina Spektor and her kick ass song “Small Town Moon” you will need to have a listen to the song at least once for the sake of clarity and reference.

Small Town Moon

One of the many “theme songs” that have followed me from my former cluster fuck of a life into this much more livable arrangement is Regina Spektor’s “Small Town Moon”.  Some of us are the poster “that girl” from this song.  Born and raised in the sticks and surrounded by trauma and trials.  Tossed under the bus and kicked to the curb but we came out scratching and biting and, by many measures, rather successful.  

Yet, I find myself stuck, once again, in the vortex of other people’s poor choices, hubris and egoistic posturing and it is REALLY affecting me.  Who’s fault is that?  Mine.

Life’s not fair, I know this.  But underestimating the part I play in making my life an equitable and enjoyable place for me and those I choose to share my journey with has proved yet AGAIN to be problematic.  Head in sand approach has never yielded me, or, I would guess, anyone else stellar results.

So here’s a little list of witchy calls to action/signs to be aware of, based on the song, you and I might be well advised to pay attention to as we go about building our ideal existences.

  1. I Wish You Wouldn’t Have Broke My Camera

We are all kind of cameras.  We take snapshots of moments in our minds and have pictures stored up of people and places and they make an album of our understanding of the world.  This album is constantly changing and sometimes people swoop in and break the lens or make you question the pictures you have taken.  If someone is being a bully, or a pain in the ass, or gaslighting you and trying to break your camera, best to get out of that space.  I have no idea if this is the intent Regina had in this lyric, but it is my take-away and how I am framing it for this blog.

  • Everybody Not So Nice

Damn people can be terrible.  Smiling assassins and snakes in the grass will arrive in your life and you will be given the gift of learning hard lessons when they do.  Old me trusted to the point of genuine stupidity and was generous to a fault.  Today, I know my worth.  I know what I serve at my table and it is warmth, and intelligence, and support and authenticity and gosh I am super funny too.  People have to genuinely earn the right to sit at my bountiful table these days, and when they do magic happens.  Wanting to see the best in people and being a wounded healer is still okay, but my stars you have to protect yourself.  My best advice for navigating people who are cruel, manipulative, opportunistic and will cause you harm is this:  Trust but verify.  See the best in people but offer nothing and protect your privacy and integrity until you have had time to research/get to know people really well.  And just as important is trusting your instincts.

  • Today We’re Younger Than We’re Ever Gonna Be

Today is a gift.  Every day is a gift.  I am a small town moon and I have flown so far South of the horizon of the teeny tiny traumatic childhood in Tomahawk Alberta.  I can’t even comprehend how my super shitty little life was anyone’s origin story, let alone mine.  Every day is an opportunity to see farther, move with more grace, breath deeper, laugh harder, and learn.  Fear does not enter into the equation and this year alone we plan to see Bhutan, Uluru, further explore Australia and Canada and the States (before it goes full blown handmaids tale).  My beautiful wife Damon and I pursue our creative dreams and he is getting to be a pretty decent photographer and I am able to write and encourage other wonderfully witchy women to be brave and shine a light on their creative shadowlands.  None of us are getting any younger, and today is absolutely the youngest we are ever gonna be.  So do the things that scare you.  Be brave. 

  • How Can I Leave Without Hurting Everyone That Made Me

This is a phase in my life where I do not have a lot of friends.  And that is okay.  I am vehemently protective of my mental health, safety and privacy.  Okay, my children say I am absolutely ruthless. There’s still a bunch of people who I adore and admire who I don’t keep in contact with and who protected me and nurtured me through the darkest days of my life.  Here and in my childhood.  If you are reading this and think you might be one of these people and I haven’t been in touch, please do know I appreciate and adore you and have no beef. Drop me a line, I probably really miss you, just been busy rebuilding and phoenix-ing through the ashes the past few years.  This is just a cocoon phase and I am happiest in solitude after being irreparably broken by people who were charged (and failed spectacularly) with protecting/supporting me.  So, hurting some of the people who “made” you by taking the darkness they handed and turning it to light, and honouring those who have respected/honoured you, well, that’s the hope going forward.  Leave but hang on to magic and let go of toxicity.  We’ve all already left the small towns in our minds.  Time to keep moving forward.  

  • Baby Baby – It’s All About The Moon

Okay, this one is proper witchy.  Did you know that the moon is actually a chunk of us that split off after a massive collision in it’s celestial infancy.  The moon is a beautiful, shining, protective guardian that keeps earth safe and controls the tides and all the water.  The moon is a magical metaphor for what definitive moments in our formative phases can mean.  Our trauma is a part of us but separate and our experiences and challenges can also serve to protect us and be incredibly powerful.  The moon cycles and shifts between shining and shadow.  As do we.  The moon comes close and journeys farther away.  The moon is a magical and meaningful celestial body, and we are all made up of the same magical star dust.  It is a part of us and we are a part of her.  Sigh.  Gosh I do love some moon metaphor. 

Okay.  That’s today’s blog.

Have a good one.  Thanks for reading!!!!

Powerfully Prophetic Dream

A couple of nights ago Damon had a really powerful dream, I’d go so far as to say it was probably prophetic.  

Damon’s Buddhist and I am a Witch.  We plod along merrily on our own spiritual paths and are curious and supportive of the inner work everyone on this earth likely has to do. We think that there’s so much we do not know or understand about even our own minds.  We also acknowledge, understand, and respect that everything and everyone is very much connected.  What we do matters.  The way we behave and the choices we make can have positive or negative impacts so it is always best to behave in a way that you can feel proud of, even, if not especially when nobody can see.  I was raised as an angry red-neck Lutheran, so I am painfully familiar with the bible. Dreams and visions play a huge and important role throughout the bible.  

Pilate’s wife dreamed quite clearly that Jesus was an innocent, good and powerful man.  She foresaw Pontius Pilate would be left with blood on his hands for killing an innocent man – and sure enough – he threw that beautiful bohemian prophet under the bus.  Pilate was by many reliable accounts a very good man.  Fair, smart, reasonable, and a charismatic leader.  Today, billions of Christians around the globe remember this act in the Apostles Creed every church service:

“Suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried, the third day he arose from the dead in accordance with the scriptures and will come again to judge…” OH MY!  That stuff is tattooed on my memory.  I have no beef with Pilate or his wife.  And Jesus was clearly incomprehensibly lovely.  I wish we’d all listen more closely to his teachings.  I also wish people would definitely stop twisting his tolerant and inclusive teachings as an excuse to be actually horrible to people they don’t understand.  Seriously.  What the actual fuck is up with that dangerous nonsense.

I digress.  As I so often do…

Okay, back to Damon’s dream.

It started in a backwoods angry tiny American town.  People were unkind to each other and there was that scary kind of religious/small town vibe like in movies such as footloose or deliverance.  He felt completely bereft and out of place and happened across a child and helped this child to wash his face and the human decency of that act left the kid in his dream feeling empowered and grateful.

Scene change. 

Next he was with me and we were in a room full of women and across the hall was a room full of man-splaining rah-rah-rah-boring-dick-swinging-rhetoric-using-men who were palpably dripping with entitlement and misogyny.  And one of the goddesses in our bright and powerful room walked across the hall and left explosive powder in the middle of the room full of dipshits.  The device erupted without hurting anyone but some of the dipshits sorta got shook out of their trance they were in and walked bravely and with purpose across the hall and into the room of kind, curious, empowered women.

He woke and told me about the dreams and recalled the deep and uplifting feeling of calm and empowerment as men in the dumb room were almost set free or lifted out of a zombie state of nasty dipshittery.  The men who moved rooms were lighter and they and those who witnessed them had a sense that they’d been set free from a nasty and destructive trance.

Just a really fabulous dream.

So.  Here’s my witchy and psychological take on that whole situation.

Damon has always been an ally.  His leadership style is one of empowerment and curiosity.  He’s pretty good at spotting greatness in people and building them up to shine brighter than they thought they could.  He’s happy to step out of any spotlight to let someone else sparkle.  

I’ve observed on countless occasions now, that insecure, ignorant and cowardly people who lack creativity and vision really don’t like that.  

The people that hate us tend to trade on manipulation and archaic power dynamics.  They are likely to take credit for other people’s efforts and successes, and never accept responsibility when they clearly and irrefutably fuck up.  And in many cases they do that for a long time and leave mess of collateral damage in their self-interested wake.  Creative and innovative people have long since abandoned such clusterfuckery.  Brave, beautiful and charismatic people do the work to be reflective and effective and do not actively seek to be surrounded yes people.  They actively get uncomfortable and work through tough stuff because the view is absolutely epic from the other side of that discomfort. It is kinda awesome.  

Damon’s sister Ali (who is fierce and fabulous and definitely in the real and metaphorical room with smart strong women) once said:  We have to do the work and go to therapy for all those who refuse to take a look at themselves.

Snap.  Ain’t dat da damned truth.

I’ve said this in so many ways and on say many different occasions, but the patriarchy and status quo of isms (racism, sexism, fascism) will topple as bullies, sociopaths and entitled boys club tactics are just not yielding the results they once did.  Divisiveness and destruction absolutely, resilient or useful results, nope, no, fucking clearly not.  

Being a curious and creative character is a much better plan.  Not always easy, but definitely better.  By creating general and genuine joy that comes from having a path of purpose and authenticity you will notice yourself being super annoying to greedy, short-sighted, inane and cruel dinosaurs.  I relish pissing them off, and we laugh and laugh at their dipshittery and deflection as our existence seems to just get better and better the farther away from them we are able to place ourselves.

So that is how I am framing his dream.  We are on the right track.  There’s faces to be wiped clean and so many truly incredible people acting with grace, curiosity, hope and humility.  I know that keeping a low profile and getting our own shit in order has been an important and necessary stage in our narrative.  But we also know that there are a lot of really unjust, and terrifying problems that will require bravery, action and a mobilised and empowered community to face head on.

I am not in any mood to start a revolution or revert to my days of having zero boundaries and no capacity for self-preservation.  My messiah complex is not set to return as I adore the safety and comfort of my meaningful little life.  

I do, however, feel that we, along with many incredibly brave and beautiful individuals, are already immersed in a quiet revolution.  

This is a revolution of vision, sensitivity, sensibility, connection and curiosity.  Acknowledging the need to return life, vitality and biodiversity to our soils, clean up our waters, and feed hope, connection and kindness is clear.  People are aware and they are behaving in ways that embrace this.  From zero-waste to carbon divestment and the serious wave of regenerative agriculture communities, movements and practices, good things are thriving globally.  We also have acknowledged the need to starve greed, short-sightedness and sociopathic consumptive cycles.  Change is coming, and we have to prepare.  We can lead and manage that change or there will be a catastrophic shift and reboot and even bigger and more disruptive changes will be thrust upon us.

At any rate.  We gotta be brave and clever not cowardly and cruel.

Damon’s dream felt like a sign and a reminder that we have work to do, but we are not alone as we aim to get some good shit happening. 

That’s all for today.

Thanks for reading.

I AM My Hero!

So, currently, the state of play is oscillating wildly between anger, shame, joy, grief, hope, despair, and then… probably some more anger.  This is my angry stage of the healing journey.  

The reason for this blog is to remind everyone who bothers to read my shit that the journey is about progress, not perfection and YOU are always the only person who can save yourself.  Absolutely futile waiting for someone to come along and rescue you.  You gotta do that shit for your own damned self.

The reason this has sprung to mind in particular lately is this.

My wonderful wife Damon is fucking next level lovely.  He is beautiful, kind, smart, brave, patient, ambitious and recently he’s suggested we ought to get fit and fabulous so we can get back to some healthy middle aged tantric type sex, which requires core strength and a sense of adventure.  Seriously, he is annoyingly wonderful it can make my eyes roll.

While all this is absolutely true, and we have had five lovely years as a dedicated couple and been married for nearly two years, I must take a moment to remind the world and myself that this safe and functioning relationship is a symptom of the intense and occasionally excruciating inner work I have been doing since my second severe nervous breakdown in 2019.

People sometimes elude to or outright say things like “Oh you are so lucky, Damon saved you!”

Erm.

What now?

I saved me.  I fucking got my drunk boundaryless ass out of the hostage situation with my first marriage.  I stared down my demons and now I dine quite comfortably with most of them.  I did the therapy and the work.  I built a healthy and accountable culture with a few good friends and severed ties with anyone who was not brave enough to be actively supportive of my evolution.  Steve and I remain civil.  That’s all I will say about that. And I choose that civility too.  Me.  I saved me. 

This does not mean I am not grateful for the support and accountability that are offered by the chosen few I let near me these days.

Had a lovely time at the P!nk concert with two of the winners of the Love Letter to Yourself competition and I couldn’t cope with how people-y the whole situation was after a while.  Luckily Sev felth the same way and we nipped out and headed home early.  There’s a word for being on the same page/frequency in Turkish and it is Bilmukabele.  It is more nuanced than this, but it is a state that I enjoy with Sev.  We are both beautifully broken and brave goddesses and unafraid to do the work that is required.

On the walk we talked about how much we have both changed and how at some point in our deeply feeling and cortisol laden journeys we each figured out that the issues in our lives always, always, remained rooted in us.  We’ve struggled and battled and felt uncomfortable in our own skin and been angry at people who Love us.  Today we are both doing pretty great if I might be so bold as to say so.  We have Loving stable partnerships and great friendships.  We are both exhausted a lot of the time, but on balance, pretty happy people.  Why?  Because we stopped blaming and deflecting and started very brave journeys inward.

We have boundaries, and see beauty everywhere.  We are talented, complicated and so fucking brave I can’t even begin to express how proud I am of both of us.  

Life’s not perfect and there’s still daily battles and a huge amount of effort required to stay on track and continue to evolve into the women we deserve to be.

But, I just needed to say to anyone who stumbles across this that it is you that will absolutely be your own greatest hero in this life.  

Big Love thanks for reading.