Joy is tricky, a complicated emotion
tossed around like a hot potato from hand to hand.
It's beautiful and full of promise,
a bright birthday balloon swelling in your chest.
But the thing about balloons is, they pop,
Sometimes quite unexpectedly, and tattered pieces
fall haphazardly to the ground.
I suppose you could go your whole life,
never trusting it, always questioning,
waiting for the BANG.
But where's the fun in that?
Embrace the joy while it is swelling, growing
forming a beautiful light air feeling,
knowing that the let down is inevitable,
but there will always be more balloons.

      It's so easy to get sucked up into the fantasy of an Instagram feed. Look at that, she's so pretty, her life is so great, now there is a woman that has her shit together. And we a are equal parts impressed, intimidated, and jealous of extremely successful women. Have you ever thought, wow, I wish I could be that successful? But then shut down the idea all together, because you've just put this complete stranger in a league entirely above you?
     I think it's part culture, part society, and part human nature that we classify ourselves, sometimes without even realizing it. We have quietly decided exactly what we are capable of and what we deserve and then relegated ourselves to the corresponding corner. We see a wildly successful, confident woman and think, that could never be me because she simply has something I don't. But that's just not true.
    Sure someone can have certain resources that put them at a perceived advantage, but, at the end of the day, it's about figuring out what you really want and believing that you deserve it.  That you are every bit as capable and worthy. And then digging in with both heels and not backing down till you get it. This is the message I hear echoing from almost every single book and Instagram feed created by a successful woman. This is what is meant by the phrase empowered women empower women.
      It's not about fighting for limited seats at the table, but about brining a folding chair and making your own damn place. Because you deserve to have the life you imagine. The one you dream of in the quiet hours before everyone else is awake. You are worthy and capable. And it does not matter what someone else thinks. Period. You know what sets your soul on fire, don't ever let someone steal your flame. Go out there and decide what it is you want and fight for it.
    You want to to know the secret to success, to having it all, to living the life you dream of? It's refusing to quit. It's grabbing every available resource to learn and grow. It's pivoting when you hit a wall (or figuring out how you can climb over the damn thing).  It's about evolving over and over and taking pride in your infinite growth and self discovery. 
    Don't be envious of those women in your Instagram feed, admire them, follow them, read the books they are reading, be inspired. You don't reach your dreams by sitting in the corner waiting for them to come to you. Do a Pinterest search for positive affirmations, find the ones that speak to you, stick them to your mirror, and say them every single day while brushing your teeth. 
     Decide what you want and commit to it with your whole heart. Take classes, read books, listen to podcasts, watch YouTube videos, devour every available resource and then go out there and try. Be afraid and do it anyway. Fail and learn and grow. Be your own biggest cheerleader. Because behind every successful woman is herself.

     Some people come by a sense of self naturally. They just know that they are worthy of love, respect, and happiness, and they own it. This has never been me. I've had to fight and claw and scratch my way to this understanding, and after 39 years of being alive, I'm finally getting to a place where I have balance more days than not. Truth be told, I still struggle with voicing my needs, especially when I feel like my needs inconvenience someone else. But, here's the thing, my needs matter, and so do yours.
     Stuffing your feelings down and suppressing your voice to avoid rocking the boat or to make someone else happy will always backfire in the end, trust me. Either you end up miserable and quietly resentful, or you explode at some unspecified, and most likely inopportune, moment in the future.  There absolutely is a such thing as compromise, but please don't confuse compromise with shoving your needs down the garbage disposal. You matter, and what you want matters too.
     I can't think of a better way to illustrate my point than the relationship between me and my husband. I love that man - like would fight rabid badgers for him. He really is my best friend and my soulmate and all that jazz BUT we both have some serious baggage from past traumas and sometimes we come up against that shit hard. We both have a tendency to shut down and curl up inside ourselves stewing on our resentment when faced with the prospect of actually voicing our needs out loud. And I, in particular, tend to take every sigh or brow furrow or slight intonation of frustration as a personal assault on my character. So, when I really want a nice long scalp massage and he exhales, I just say never mind and walk away assuming that I'm a horrible burden (very melodramatic I know).  But the thing is, I really  wanted a scalp massage. And the next time he asks me for anything, like a back scratch or a sandwich, I comply because I really do love him, but I've still got the lingering resentment of never getting my scalp massage.  
    And he's such a night owl, and I'm totally a morning person and when I'm waking up he's still happily asleep and visa versa. So when he wants to chat about all the things that are important to him, I just want to go to sleep, and the resentment builds. Two people who love each other, building up a volcano that could burn the house down, and for what? I mean really. He's my best friend (and my very sexy husband), why don't we just communicate? Because, years of trauma and cultural bias have taught us that love is suppressing what you want to make someone else happy. For me especially, it's the still small voices that whispers "You're not worthy. You're not important. You don't deserve love." And so, instead of compromise, I shove my needs down the garbage disposal and give him whatever I think he wants because isn't that love?
      No, still small voice, that is not love, that's something more akin to masochism. Because the truth is, I am worthy, my needs are important, and I do deserve love (and so does he and so do you). Loving yourself, loving someone else means being honest. It means standing up for yourself and communicating what makes you happy and what doesn't. It means respecting yourself enough to believe that you have a right to speak up, and if the other person respects you too, they will listen. And if they don't, to hell with them. They aren't worthy of you. 
    Your voice is precious. Don't give it up for anyone. And when someone else speaks, give them the same courtesy. Protect your fellow humans. Because we are all deserve to be heard. 

     When I was little, I dreamed of weddings and flowers and a handsome princes as much as the next girl, but my mom gave me a beautiful gift. She encouraged me to be strong and independent, "Go to college, have fun, live your life, find yourself and then find someone you love to share it with." I didn't properly appreciate that admonishment as a teenager. I saw all the girls around me wearing make up and growing into their bodies and building a shrine to Valentine's Day and boys who bought them gifts or held their hands between classes. And neither of my dads gave me a good example of how a spouse should treat their partner. I was adrift in a sea of teenage angst wearing combat boots and blue lipstick with my dresses. I never wanted to fit in or be popular, but I did want to be loved. I wanted so badly to find my other half. My soul mate. The one person who marched to the beat of the same drum.
     I settled a lot, and put up with shit that I really shouldn't have, on my search, but props to mom's wisdom, because I never stopped being me. I was a girl with goals, and passion, and great big dreams, and I'll be damned if I was going stop wearing polyester pants and pink flamingo bowling shirts for anyone. So much internal conflict. What was wrong with me? Where was this person that was going to complete me? It took me years to realize what some people still haven't. I AM NOT HALF. And you are not half either.
   We are complex, diverse, amazing very whole human beings all on our own. Much to my chagrin, mom's right about this too. We don't have to get married or have kids or a white picket fence to be complete. If you feel like something is missing, I promise it's not a mate.
Sure, we can desire companionship, and love, and sex, but none of this really means anything if we can't love ourselves first. In the immortal words of RuPaul, "If you can't love yourself, then how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?"
     Believe me, I have been through my share of shitty relationships to figure this out. I'm allowed to blog, podcast, travel, party, make money, have adventures and absolutely love my life with or without a partner. Don't believe anyone who tells you otherwise, because they're probably trying to sell you something. The media is great at this especially for women. Our culture has traditionally given the same one size fits all step ladder to every little girl. Be desirable and socially normative so you can get married and raise a family.
​     But what about the other million possibilities? What about women who don't want to get married and settle down? The ones who would love to find a partner but haven't met them yet? The ones who want kids but can't have them? The ones who have loved and lost? Are they somehow less than? Sad, derelict ships endlessly sailing with no safe harbor?
     Absolutely not. Because you are whole and worthy of loving yourself, of divine love (however you interpret it), and of all your dreams. It took me years to realize this and truly embrace it, but I'm eternally grateful that I did, because when I got married to the most amazing human being at the age of 32, I was a whole person sharing my life with another whole person. And I didn't settle, or give up who I am, I shared the life I already loved with the person I loved and I wouldn't have it any other way.

     My mother and I have a pretty solid relationship (after barely surviving my tumultuous teenage years). There have been a lot of struggles over the years, and I know she stays awake some nights going over all the ways she's failed me, or how things could have gone differently, but the truth is, she is one of the strongest women that I know. She's taught me me about bravery and tenacity, and how to never apologize for who I am or what I want. She's showed me how to be giving, and forgiving even when I might not want to be. And some of my best childhood memories (in a childhood swamped with trauma and uncertainty) are of her.
     She used to have this marvelously 80's night gown made of rayon or polyester that was baby blue and went all the way to the floor on me. It had roses and lace embroidered on the collar and (I think) short billowy sleeves. I used to put it on with a pair of her beige heals (which were too big and flopped as I walked) and a teal pearl clip on earrings. I remember looking at myself and thinking that I was the height of sophistication and elegance, and dreamed of the day that I could be as lovely and glamorous as my mother.
     I also remember watching her apply her makeup in the bathroom, and once I asked if I could do her makeup - she let me, and I felt like I had one the lottery. She ended up looking like a clown that had gone on a bender, but she told me that it was beautiful anyway. Mom's teeth are tinted grey because of medicine she took as a kid, and she's always been self conscious about it, but I never noticed, because all I could see was her beautiful smile, and that I hoped I would grow up to be pretty like her one day.
     Despite all the things that could have gone differently, or all the times we butted heads, I always saw how much she gave for me. There was always a magical Christmas no matter how many presents were or weren't under the tree. There was always cake on my birthday. And she always helped me with my sewing projects, no matter how difficult the task. I remember more than once going to bed frustrated with a collar I just couldn't get right or an invisible zipper I couldn't get to line up, and in the morning, I woke up to a finished garment that made me feel like the bees knees.
     Once, to show my undying gratitude, I saved up my money to buy her a Rod Stewart CD and some scented bath soaps (the height of luxury in my opinion), and put them in a shoe box I decorated with unicorn wrapping paper. I even made her a cookie cake, which raised over the sides of the pan and all over the bottom of the oven. I tried to clean up my mess, but it was late and dad told me we could clean up in the morning. Mom woke up pissed as hell that I trashed her oven, but when I showed her the cake and her special gift, she cried for getting mad at me, hugged me, and told me it was wonderful. I later caught her jamming out to Rod Stewart while washing dishes, suds flying off her hands as she danced.
     Yeah, me and mom have had our disagreements, and strongly worded arguments, and even a few all out spats, but the truth is - I am who I am because I learned how to be the best kind of human from my mom. It's been hard this year with her living three hours away and the pandemic keeping us apart, but on days like today, I look back on all the good times and smile. This is for my mom, with love. 

     This has been a rough year, so rough in fact that I have seen numerous t-shirts that have "2020" painted on a dumpster fire. Sometimes it's more cathartic to have a little laugh about misery than to dive in and burrow down, but the truth is this has been an extremely rough year for everyone and doubly so for those struggling with anxiety and depression.  
     I'm a people person, through and through. I love to travel and have adventures, I love visiting friends. I go stir crazy when I'm cooped up for too long. And I've been very fortunate thus far to have a job outside my home that I can go to and keep getting paid (I'm deeply thankful for this reprieve). But, this year, I've missed Comicon and PowWow get together with my WGB girls, a trip to Moab that I was so craving, and Sunday night card games with an older couple we've played with for years.
     I've watched the news unfold with so much pain, suffering, violence, unrest, and division. I've seen families and friendships torn apart. I've listened as my anxiety tells me that there's no point anyway because it's all going to shit just like it said it would. And some days it just doesn't feel like there's an end in sight. And I'm here today to tell you that it's ok, to not be ok. Feeling scared, or angry, or frustrated, or out of control, or all these things at once is perfectly normal and we are going to be ok. Because, here's the thing, no matter what happens, life is only lived one day at a time. One second, one minute, one hour at a time.
     Anxiety lives in the past or the future not the present.  It pulls up all the worst memories of what has happened or what might happen and makes it very hard to focus on what is right now. Be kind to yourself, always. Know that it is normal and ok to let yourself feel and process all the emotions you are having, good and bad. Focus your energy on today, and what you can do right now. If you are able and have need, I highly recommend talking to a therapist. Not enough people realize just how important it is to have a mental health professional in their corner.
     Be mindful: color, do arts and crafts, meditate, practice yoga. Find something that gets you out of your head and draws your focus away from the things you can't control. Do things that make you happy and don't worry about people's opinions. Use the good china for no reason on a Tuesday afternoon. Wear your formal dress while watching Netflix. Sculpt with clay even if you have no idea what your doing. There's so much uncertainty in the world. Life is too short to worry about matching socks and getting everything right on the first try. Let yourself be, let yourself feel, let yourself live in the moment.
     And remember, it's ok to not be ok right now. Take a deep breath, hug your cat, call your therapist, and never stop doing the things that make you happy, because this is not the end.

Carrying a load of bricks on my back, 
so far, so long.
Everything in me aches,
tired, sore, very nearly broken.
No matter how many times I readjust,
can't get comfortable, no relief
from the wary feeling, the pain
of carrying so much weight.
One for mothers, one for fathers,
one for each mistake, each regret,
each heartache, each unmet need.
Bricks, and bricks, and bricks
Until I fall to my knees and stare at the sky,
The sun so warming on my face.
Has the sky always been so beautiful,
so blue?
Slip one arm free of the satchel, 
then the other.
A thud, and then relief.
Finally stretching my unencumbered body,
finally free.