intra-changeable

One year ago, I published my first “real” blog post. I had released a few before, but I felt like this was the first one where I was 100% honest and my first time getting really personal. I remember being a nervous mess, second guessing myself for the next 24 hours. I remember crying a lot. I was already crying a lot at that time, but that blog was an excuse for more. I’ve wanted to put out another post for the last month. I wanted to discuss recent coping techniques for the separating of emotions and thoughts, and to give an honest recap of the past 365 days since I released the first “real” story. I wanted to connect where I am now to that story which garnered the most feedback and attention and, more importantly, felt the most therapeutic. Over the past month, I would start and stop - over cups of breakfast tea, in the library while my kids did their homework. I’ve jotted down the random thoughts in what has become my greatest confidant, the notes app. But, how do I get out what I

Shift noun plural noun: shifts 1. a slight change in position, direction, or tendency. I was listening to the song "Goshen" by Beirut, wandering through the grocery store with the hope that my headphones would distract anyone from talking to me. While there, I received a text from a very dear friend. She and I were catching up with each other, discussing what was going on in our lives. In between the texts and the search for my favorite coffee creamer, I kept hitting repeat on a song. Do you ever get half way through a song and you’re like “oh shit, I really wanted to listen well to this” and though you restart it, you are never able to give it your full attention, which means you just keep playing it over and over? That was happening with this song, over and over, 3 times and then 5 times. And though I could not give the song my full attention, there was one line that kept sticking out. “You’re not the girl I used to know.”  Without listening to the song in its ent

I never learned to count my blessings I choose instead to dwell In my disasters Ray Lamontagne, “Empty” This line. This song. I’ve loved it since the first time I heard it. I identified with it, and its words penetrated my soul. I am a fan of sadness. I always have been. I love a song that will make my chest tight, a movie I have to squint to watch because it’s so dark, and a book that I can put myself in and feel every bad feeling the character is feeling. I like the rain, documentaries about Elliott Smith, black coffee, black clothing, and silent rooms. I have been like this as far back as I can remember (minus the coffee, that’s new), finding an almost unsettling comfort in being sad. In a way, I invite it into my life. It has been both a blessing and a curse. But let's dwell on my disasters. We all know (or at least I think we do) the downfall of loving sadness. It's hard to love anything without becoming attached. I remember a week where the only song

It’s crazy how, as you're floating through life, you find yourself in a moment, or sometimes moments, where you can’t breathe, where you’re drowning and this is it - this is how your body leaves the earth. It sounds dramatic. It totally is, but it’s also fitting and fucking terrifying. But all things pass away. Time moves forward. You find your head above the water again. You’re drenched, everything hurts and your face is swollen, but you’re still alive - you survived. But turbulent water doesn't still quickly. You will be at the mercy of the waves, getting days where you don't cry at all, days with a full night of sleep, days you go back on your word, and days where you cry at work. Slowly, though, life calms, and sooner than you'd think possible, you can't believe the old you existed. Like a serpent you have shed your skin and you feel new.  That feeling is so good, it is a euphoric high, making you believe you can do anything. But beware, you can’t. This is w

So this is the new year... Personally, I love it - the thought of a clean slate, a chance to start a new habit or put to rest an old one. Saying goodbye to old routines that have caged us - we have a key now to let ourselves out and it will fall into our laps when a ball drops. It's a chance to embrace a thought that we have kept hidden in the corner of our brains - a chance to throw it out there for everyone to see. This is all because a single digit in a numeric code changed at the strike of midnight.  And although there are 365 midnights in a year, this is the one, heavy with cultural celebration, where change feels possible. Somewhere along the way I started to smile again I don't remember when This year feels different. The past year felt incredibly different. 2 months ago I had an idea of what December 31st would feel like, and surprisingly, it felt nothing like I anticipated. New Year's Eve was spent with friends that have been in my life for 20 years, new