You Will Run


We spend so much of our lives trying to figure out what is a good fit for us.  We research what car to buy, what trip to take, what movie to watch, what books to read, and so, so much more.  Sometimes we think about things for months and months, worried about making the wrong decision.  And sometimes we get so stuck in our thinking things through that we lose tons time because we are living our lives out of a fear filled space of “getting it wrong.”

I have been there and done that.  Heck, I am still there and doing that several times each week in so many ways.  I wonder if I am “ready” for things and spin my wheels getting trapped in the monkey mind places inside of me.  Those places that it is near impossible to move forward because I just get more and more twisted up the longer I “think things through”.

What I am gratefully starting to learn is that when we finally are ready to change our lives and make them ones we love, we will run to whatever lifeline is being thrown out to us.  In fact, for me, it has stopped being about feeling I am completely “ready” and deciding that I will seek joy, freedom and good things for myself no matter what.  I am grabbing onto those things that catch my attention, even if I don’t completely understand why.

There comes a time when we are so tired of living a life of feeling stuck and just icky, that nothing else matters but making things better.  Cost doesn’t matter. Time constraints that are real or imagined don’t matter.  Staying in a job we loathe no longer matters. Others’ opinions don’t matter. The history of our lives doesn’t matter. Researching things ad nauseum doesn’t matter.  What we’ve always done doesn’t matter.  All of the things that keep us stuck in our bodies, minds and spirits stop mattering because we finally decide something, anything, has got to change.

At this point, all that matters is running as fast and as strongly as we can towards a life that is filled with the hope of freedom, joy, and possibility.  We latch onto that hope like the life line it is to pull us from our lives of pain and sorrow.  We wrap that hope around us like a cloak of love for ourselves, knowing we deserve it; or at least willing to learn to live into that belief.   We run even with the babiest of steps towards something more.

We are all worth living lives of joy, health and hope.   I hope you RUN towards the choices best for you that will open the doors to that kind of a life.

I know because I have


I am committed to writing a blog post everyday.  Writing fuels me and heals me and leaves me feeling like I’ve shared something of value with the world even if it’s just a small piece of one woman’s story.  The last few days I have written of things that popped up in my morning reflection time.  Today nothing is coming to the surface which allows me to share something I wrote last week (after the death of our oldest farm cat, Sammy) waiting for an opportunity to share it here. Starting my day writing here leaves me feeling like I’ve at least got 1 thing done each day.  It’s a great way to start my day.

What fuels you and heals you? How can you make that part of the start of your day?  How can you say YES to you first and foremost!


Loss is different now.  Each little loss of an animal at the farm used to devastate me, knock me out and to the ground for days, sometimes weeks depending upon the situation.  I used to wonder, after each death, if I could really run a large farm with a lot of older animals.  The chances for more frequent loss is higher than many other farms might experience. Each death impacted me so much. I would experience great sadness and guilt that I hadn’t done more, fear I had somehow missed something leading to the death.

That all changed, at least to some extent, with Russell’s death.  The depths of my sadness, fear, confusion, guilt and imbalance I’ve had to work through and clear out since his death has given me a far different perspective on death of others.  Other losses since then can leave me feeling sad but I’ve learned to bend like a strong willow tree much more easily now.

Once a month I get a week long reminder of how strong I really am and how far I have come.  The 13th is the anniversary date of Russell going into the hospital, the slide into Cuckoo Luckoo Land. The 20th is the anniversary date of his death. And everything in between is layers and layers of memories.

Every month the 13th – 20th is an opportunity to remember to use all of the tools in my self-care bag.  This bag is full of lots of tools that help me stay grounded, open to allowing things to flow as they will, shield myself from outside influences, be deeply grateful for all that I have and breathe, Just Breathe.  In this bag are breathing techniques, clearing tools, meditations, songs that heal, movements that keep the flow going, choices that soothe the weariness away, and so much more.  Dozens and dozens of valuable tools that I can often forget to pull out and actually use.   But this one week is a consistent reminder that I have tools that I know I can use, because I already have.

This week is a reminder to not allow outside things and people to control me.  Listening to my truest self, the wisdom of me that tells me what is best for me, this is what I remember to do.  We can never understand another’s journey, another person’s deepest needs, even if they are walking a similar path as our own.  I am reminded that I can listen to MY wisdom voice because I already have.

This week is a reminder that I can breathe, JUST BREATHE, through anything.  When all else starts to spin, no answers seem clear and the way ahead is foggy I can just breathe. I remember because I already have.

I am reminded that I am the Willow Tree  – strongly rooted, stretching my arms up to the sky, providing a shelter of branches, able to bend without breaking and so very strong. The things that I am able to withstand in life go far beyond what I every imagined for my life.  I am far, far stronger than I every knew I could be.  I know because I have already experience all of these things.

I am reminded that LOVE surrounds me and flows through me. I can choose to respond with love and light, feeling grateful for every little gift. I can choose to seek love and welcome it when it is given to me. I can choose to recognize that I am never alone.  I can choose to believe that love is the most powerful thing I will ever experience.   I know this because I already have.


I am reminded that letting go and trusting that all will be well is the only way for me to find healing and become whole.  If I try to have all of the answers, understand all of the whys and make sense out of everything I become more lost. When I let go, allowing myself to live in the mystery I somehow find my path.  I know because I already have.

Each death now opens another door for me, peels back another layer of my cocoon. Death is a part of life and I can dance between the light and the dark, in that glorious space where love resides, in the misty Shadowlands of Great Mystery.  I know all of this because I already have. I already have.

Dive on in


“Hold it in. Don’t let them see you cry.  Just let it go. Move on with your life.  Get over it already.  Push through. You’ve got to do your job.  People don’t want to hear it anymore. Don’t wallow in things.  Get on with it.”

These messages come through from somewhere. I don’t recall directly hearing these but these can run like ticker tapes through my head.  I honestly have no one in my life who is saying these things directly to me.  But somehow these “suck it up” messages are part of my thought process because I can hear them play in my head if I’m having a rough time that I just can’t seem to shake.  The longer I try to hold it in, not cry and just keep pushing through the more of a mess I become.   Each day that I try to ignore the depths of emotion welling up inside of me the less I am able to get much of anything done.  As I shove things away, trying to stay focused on getting tasks done, it’s as if an internal top starts spinning faster and faster and faster.

Instead I’m learning to dive into the emotion, especially when it flares up inside me with the fierceness and quickness of a summer storm.  When things finally come to a point that I must stop all I am doing and face whatever storm has arisen inside of me I am finding it is much healthier for myself and those around me if I completely tap out for a day and dive deep into the sadness and confusion before me.   I am learning to stop listening to the ticker tape messages in my head replacing them with ones of self-love, care, and allowing myself to dive deep into the exact place I need to be in each moment.

Some would see my dives as wallowing in sadness, and some days I judge myself that way. There seems to be a time limit that is placed upon feeling deep emotions and the further out from the initial event the less time we should spend thinking about it or feeling the aftershocks of it.  If you’ve got to cry again do it quick and get back to the task at hand. However my experience of allowing myself to dive into the emotion, feeling it as deeply and as long as I truly need to is that I am then able to be in a clearer space, a more healed place upon my return.

What amazes me is that each time I finally give myself permission to tap out of expectations to “suck it up and just keep moving” and dive into all that I am feeling, I come back out feeling more whole and truly ready to move again.  It’s as if the dive into the murky, darker places of intense emotion shake things up to the point that I  no longer feel clogged and stuck.  I can almost feel my whole body shift as I cry, scream, feel and dive on in. I can hear that deep, inner self say “thank you for listening to me and honoring me.” I can feel love wrap around me as I say yes to me and what I most need.

I wonder what would happen if I gave myself permission faster to tap out and dive on into the emotions swirling inside of me. I wonder if I would be able to quiet those negative, ticker tapes running through my thoughts if I said yes to the quiet voice inside of me saying “taking the day off and dive in”.   I wonder if I would feel better sooner and have less days that felt like I was trying to move through quicksand.  Probably.  It’s worth trying.  I’m worth trying!




I’m learning


Grief is a long, twisty, bizarre journey .  I’ve been feeling good overall, feeling as if my heart has healed a lot and I’m ready to move forward with life in ways I hadn’t been previously.  I’ve felt ready for something.  But I’ve  not really known what that something might be.  I’ve tried this and that, wondered this and that, moved forward on this and that.  But there is no this or that catching my attention past the point of taking the first steps forward on a path.  I am living in the hope that something, anything will just grab me and scream to me “Yes, this can feed your soul enough to carry you through the rough days.”  I keep moving forward, one tiny step at a time.

I’m realizing today that this second year of grieving the death of Russell is even more treacherous to journey than the first.  The path is so much more foggy.  Life has taken over and I spend most of my days dealing with work, helping my children figure out their journeys, and spending time with family and friends.  I don’t as much as I want to.  I am caught up in living a life.  I am trying to just live.  I go for weeks feeling stable, whole, and able to handle life. And then something triggers me and I find myself in the midst of one of those darker places again.

I think of Russell. I miss him everyday.  The kids and I talk about him more now than we could a year ago.  We dream of adventures.  I pay my bills.  I line up doctor’s appointments.  I try to eat healthy.  I cook more.  I laugh some everyday.  I talk to Russell in my head of how proud of our children I am.

I am also finding that my heart is hurting so much the past few weeks.  And little things can pop up that leave me feeling as if I’m unraveling all over again.  I know that I am strong but I am feeling weaker as time goes along rather than stronger.  And than I realize that this second year, this year of rebuilding and integrating the shock of last year, has so many lessons to learn.

I’m learning to tap out again, just like I did much of last year.  There are just some days, some moments that I just need to be away from the world.  In those moments I collapse into myself, sob a lot, and hide under the covers for at least a few hours.

I’m learning to not feel guilty about continuing to place great emphasis upon my self-care and encouraging my kids to do the same.  There is a part of me that believes I need to suck it all up and just get the job done, no matter what my emotional state might be.  I do work hard most days on many, many things. But other days I give into the need to focus primarily on self-care.

I’m learning to find the one or two things that I can do each day that always make me smile.  Usually these involve my children or my pups.

I’m learning that the unraveling I experience is needed so that I can start to weave a new life web. I’m strengthening the strands of my web, spinning new ones, and dreaming.

I’m learning that I need to write everyday, and not just in my journal.  Blogging feeds my soul in ways I can’t quite understand.  There is something about writing and sharing my journey – the good, the bad, the challenging, the easy – that heals me and gives me purpose.  Even if the writing is short I think I need to start blogging everyday, no matter what.  Considering I have the topics for at least 15-20 blog posts already written down it should be fairly easy to do.

I’m learning that not knowing what I want to change in my life is okay.  I’ve got to settle into this unknowing place as a good, normal place for me right now.

I’m learning that part of what makes me strong is being able to say I’m not strong all of the time.

I’m learning that grieving impacts us on such a deep and broad level that it can take a very long time to rebuild our lives and learn to still be able to move even when those little things try to pull the rug out from under us again.

I’m learning that just when I think I’ve got this grieving thing under my belt, it is really that a new layer of learning is being reached.  Just because I have bad days or rough weeks it doesn’t mean that I’m not healing or that I’m not strong.

I just need to be sharing my story, not worrying if others get it or if they are even listening or how rambling my writing seems to be to me.  My path doesn’t have to be a linear one, it just has to be my path. I don’t know why it feels so important to share my story. Maybe because it’s one of the few things that seems to come easily to me.   There is so much in my life that seems hard to do or figure out still.  Writing, sharing my life journey, loving my children, listening to other people’s stories, these are the things that seem real to me. These things feed my soul.

I’m learning!


Tiny Steps


Tiny steps forward are often all that I can take. As I keep stepping forward, baby step after baby step, sometimes slow as a turtle I end up making huge strides forward.

It’s okay to walk your path with quiet, steady determination. No matter what the world tries to tell us life isn’t a race.

I’m going to enjoy every step of playfulness and time with my family over the next week and a half. Joy, playfulness, gratitude, breathing space, listening to what I want, all of these are the steps I will take.

What tiny steps can you make today?