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The Dead Fish

I am perched at a table directly above the San Pablo Bay, with San Francisco (a City where I once spent half of my life) a stone’s throw away. This delicious gem of a Crab House (rightfully named “The Dead Fish”) where I find myself for the first time, is located in a Podunk town called Crockett. If that sentence doesn’t highlight some of my Southern roots, I am not sure what does. To say I am bathing in my solitude in this moment is a vast understatement. These days are few and far between for me now, and I would be lying if I said that fact did not conjure up a number of conflicting feelings for me.

This moment solidifies my notion that seafood is my love language. Well, that and carbs. As I sip spoonful’s of the fresh clam chowder sitting in front of me, and crack open my first Colleen Hoover novel (I am jumping on that ship headfirst, I will admit), I think about the life that has brought me here, on yet another solo day trip, pondering life after yet another week that broke me.

The fact that indulging in good food while deep in thought about my life is a common theme here, is not lost on me. But as any parent knows, savoring a meal with no distraction is often a luxury over a right.

I miss writing, more than I could possibly express here in one post. I miss the feeling of being free and inspired. In fact, I could not even remember my login password to compose this post. And that saddens me, because just as much as I enjoy reading from the minds of others, I have (for some time now) cherished the introspection that comes from this process of writing.

This analogy might ignite some eye rolls, but in this very moment, it is oh so relevant. The plate of fresh crab is delivered to my table and I am suddenly, ever so slightly, regretting this decision; solely because of how messy it will be. And messy it is. Getting bits of crab shell all over the table (and my shirt because my ego simply could not allow me to wear the bib provided), and that amazing garlic sauce all under my freshly manicured nails. But the reward, that perfect, buttery crab meat…..was worth it. And while I won’t even try to compare my mental clarity to crab meat (I am not totally insane, yet), I will say that this process I am in: the healing, the weekly therapy sessions, the tears, the step back (from a once vibrant social life), the digging, the unraveling and the putting back together…..it is a messy one. But survival mode is no way to live life.

So while I sit and enjoy some “dead fish”, I make the decision to ignite thriving mode, for that woman in me that created this space many moons ago.

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Catnaps

Sundays are for catnaps. For boutique browsing. For sun soaking. For book diving.

As I lay in bed, that mid-afternoon sun pushing through the blinds and Chloe girl at my feet, I think about how many Sundays have come and gone since I have written last.

Perhaps one of the saddest parts of growing up is how all too often we allow ourselves to become completely engulfed in responsibility and people pleasing, to the point of breakdown, before we pause and reevaluate.

That is where I find myself on this particular Sunday. Slowly climbing my way back to mental clarity; breathing slightly deeper and pausing a little longer. In fact, it is quite telling how much the power of saying NO has been directed at my own self lately.

I have been addicted to “busy” for years. The feeling that productivity is everything and if I am not constantly one step ahead of myself, I am failing. What is that saying…….”Never become so busy making a living that you forget to make a life”? GUILTY. AS. CHARGED.

That is, until I found myself sobbing uncontrollably at night; sick with stress; wanting to run and hide every chance I could. But no matter how far I ran, the burnout was inevitably there waiting. The flawed thinking, the skewed priorities, and the knee-jerk life reactions that were embedded in me like a tick.

So here I am, yet again, finding my way back to myself.

“Heal yourself first. The rest will come later.”

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Thoughtful Thursday

I usually post a quote on Thoughtful Thursday. Today, however, I feel compelled to write about a story I found on Long Reads. It was not only thought provoking, but heart wrenching and although terribly sad, inspiring to read such stories of courage from young ones. I have children of my own, as you may know, so this hit me especially hard and sparked a range of emotions. It was an interview the New York Times did of 18 young girl’s who were captured by Boko Haram in Nigeria and forced to be suicide bombers. I won’t begin to try and summarize the article, but will link it below:

New York Times Article

It is easy at times (at least for myself, as I lead a very busy life and rarely have time to even watch the news) to “forget” that there are other’s in the world whose worries far exceed our own. Those who on a regular basis are afraid for their lives, their children’s lives, and have endured things so horrific that just our reading about them is enough to make our stomach churn. Although I try for the most part to write about positive, uplifting things, I believe it is good at times to receive a healthy dose of “reality”. This article served as just that to me. A reminder to count my blessings on a daily basis, and practice gratitude for my current circumstances and those of my children.

Just last night I had a phone conversation with my friend about perspective (which tends to be a theme in my writing). She was telling me about a friend of hers who has battled cancer for 13 years and how watching her struggle from afar and observing her positive attitude serves as her own sort of attitude readjustment at times. Granted, much of life is “relative”. We gauge a “bad” day off of a “normal” day to us. Well, our normal is certainly not everyone’s normal. Taking a step back, however, can help us see the bigger picture and allow us, if only minimally, to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes. To practice, along with gratitude, empathy.

I hope you get time to read the article, and if not, then I hope at least this post has made you think about something in your life that can incite a thankful heart. If you have read any articles recently that you’ve found especially moving, please share in the comments below.

Happy (almost) Friday, all!

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Thoughtful Thursday

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I love this, because although it would be pretty difficult for us to never think anything negative again, it is so very true that our thoughts are everything when it comes to the life we live and the life we want for ourselves moving forward. They control our actions, our energy, our overall mental well being. And the more positive our thoughts, the more we are able to help those around us (especially if we have children). Moving into the last couple months of the year, I hope to put this into practice a little more every day, every week.

Happy Thursday all, make it a good one!

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Letting Go 


I slowly placed the lid over the top of the candle on the nightstand. As I sat back on the bed with tears streaming down my face, I watched as the flame flickered out. It felt oddly symbolic. Just five days before my 31st birthday, I was once again reminded of the weight of being an adult. Having to make decisions that hurt so bad in the moment, but the mature you knowing deep down it was right; right for future you, right for your children. So I took a deep breath and I let go. Physically, I let the tears go. Mentally and emotionally I freed myself of what was, what could’ve been, and I remembered this: there is never a better time to start anew than the present. So I closed my eyes and awaited the sunrise. The first sunrise of the rest of my life.

“Always go with the choice that scares you the most, because that’s the one that is going to help you grow” ~ Caroline Moss

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