Sunday, October 20, 2013


It is entirely way too easy to get caught up in, what... I don't even know.  Self deprecation?  Anger?  Confusion?  All of that and more?  Yes, entirely way too easy.  Give your life a couple small blows and whew!  Soon all those negative little nellies squirm right in that soul of yours and make themselves comfy.  Like your heart is a bubble bath.  They just want to get all pruney.

I've had some small blows... they seem recent, but really it's more of a build up.  Transitioning into becoming a mother of two seemed like the perfect time for the build up to pop a bit, so WHAM! 

It's super annoying and super exhausting.  And I just want to run away from myself.  So instead I have found myself slipping back into the old ways... good ol' binging.  And then loathing.  And then binging.  And then loathing. 

Super annoying.  Super exhausting.

I've sought help from a couple of therapists... amazing, really, how so few people are actually good at their job.  Or rather, excellent at their job.  I've heard of some pretty damn good folks out there on the East coast.  Some others here or there.  Totally out of my price range.  Totally out of my range at all.

So.  I'm working hard to find other ways to get through this. 

I've decided to start studying Buddhism and Taoism.  Scrambling away from my Catholic roots.  Reaching towards the soul of my first dad.  Studying and learning and listening.  Who knows.

Anyway.  This morning, during a low moment, I read this:

Sometimes, we miss our old world, we struggle to surrender our former freedoms, our youth and all those evenings, weekends, and holidays to ourselves.

Sometimes we look in mirrors, look at our messy living rooms or at the clock that reads three in the morning, and ask, 'Where am I?'

A Buddhist would provide a short, simple answer:  Here, now.

Those words gave me a moment of hope.  Some light.  Because this moment?  I am in my kitchen.  My husband is starting the fire.  My son is doing an art project at the kitchen table.  My daughter is sleeping in her bed.  The sun is peeking up over the canyon walls and the leaves on all the aspen trees are bright yellow.  We are healthy.  I am drinking coffee from my trip to Ethiopia.  I am wearing clothes.  My back it itchy.  I can scratch my back.  My stomach is rumbling.  I will put food into it.  My husband just approached me and said, "I'm just giving you space...." and then kissed my cheek.  I leaned into it rather than away.

Here.  Now.

It doesn't have to be about then.  Or what is to come.  It can be here.  It can be now.  And that gives me hope.


  1. as a person who has found herself caught up in anxiety attacks for future work projects and all the "what ifs"- to the point where even breathing at a normal rate seems hard- I needed this.

  2. yes, yes. That is what meditation has taught me as well. Some days I'm really good at getting there, others-whew. Wish I lived near you, love you.