Tag Archives: Ego


Sometimes I find myself laying on the floor at weddings wresting ugly thoughts that scream at me, telling me I’m not beautiful, not worthy, I don’t deserve to be here on this Earth celebrating with wonderful people. And then I look up at tiny lights on the ceiling that are actually a direct reflection of lights within me. For the most powerful images are not those from our past, nor the ones that lay ahead; they are the voices and images that lay patiently within us. So I wrote a poem about that day, at a wedding, laying on the floor.




My efforts to love you

Tossed away.

A severed connection,

You put me at bay.


Now I find myself in a beautiful house, with beautiful people, with a beautiful spouse.


And I lay on the floor only to find,

Nothing consumes me like you

On the mind.


I look up.

I see a miraculous sight.

Colors glowing, illustrious light.

I wonder why it is you treat me this way.

Flip of the switch

We’re strangers that lay.


One day you love me,

I’m beautifully so

Exquisite like diamonds

Inside, I glow.


Yet today we are strangers

With hollowed eyes

Ignoring passion

For you,

Hear the cries.


Tonight I know you have left my side

Your abandon, I surrender. You win. I abide.

How long will this last? Who me? I don’t know.

The mirror shouts reflections you refuse to show.


This love, it is patient.

This love is for you.

Though you won’t wait for me,

I’ll wait for you.


I say I, when I mean we.

For I am you

And you dear, are me.

I speak to you daily

Can’t you see?

I am the light

That only you can set free.

Love me completely.

This is how it must be.

Surrender yourself

Let go

And breathe.

This you know, we both truly need.


Love yourself,

That’s all I will say.

That’s all I want

For you each day.


Look up at those lights as you lay on this floor,

It’s me, I’m calling, please do not ignore!

Get up now dear

Please lay no more.

Reach out, be brave

Now open the door.


I’m calling.

for me from missy

–Original Poem (original artwork created by a beautiful soul and friend of mine)–

I challenge you to listen today. Listen to the voice within. Stop for a moment. Don’t look forward, don’t look behind, look at what is calling out to you in this moment. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you hear it? It’s you. Won’t you accept this beautiful gift?

Love and light,




Burning out

Out of your mother’s womb

Out of this world, you came.

Out of your mind in

Outer space, we remain.



In awe of your aura,

I reach for you in a darkened space.

No spoken word.

What is this love, unheard?

Gravity, make us one from two

This I beg of you.


Each morning you show yourself,

And I swim to you.

Each night you disappear,

And I remain.

Tell me this is not love, my sun.


Your warmth lives me

As I dance around a sickly mind

Swaying, melting into our axis of desire.

Curtsy and waltz away for a time.

Tell me, how is the view?


Meet me at the moon

Mediation will caress us both

Just as I long to caress you, and you,


Making waves as we travel closer.


Earthlings can only imagine

A kind of

Burning out.

This love, it begs release.


Come out of you.

Come out of me.

Shine these lights on each other

Blending all that we are



Let it burn out of your heart

Out of your body

Out of this world

Just as you emerged,

Allow it.


We are but stars burning out,


An imagined friend of ours,

Plaguing our delusional lives,

Whispering sweet tomorrows.

What are you waiting for?


I know you’re scared

Of a love that burns so deeply within,

But I fear never unveiling the true essence of mine.


I may be your fool,

But every inch of this fading body

Carries a piece of love

Now seen

For you, my dear sun.


burn out blog post


–Original Poem–


I am so grateful for friends who encourage me to live, love, and let it out. Thank you, always.




120 pounds


Breast size is all of, well, a handful.

These sizes portray the body that carries me.


At the ripe old age of 24, I have seen all sizes on my body. 140 pounds during my teen years; a curvaceous 186 pounds by the end of my pregnancy; and for 9 months I witnessed a miraculous transformation as my breasts ballooned from a perky size A-cup to size Oh my GOD your boobs are ginormous! I have pimples, stretch marks, and moles. Dark circles taint the area underneath my slanted eyes, and a rather large nose protrudes from my face. These are all facts. Another fact: On my worst days I want some of it altered, other parts removed, and I welcome the thought of implanting foreign objects underneath my skin.

For years I clung to the saying: “If you don’t like something about yourself, fix it.” Fix what? I thought. The external things? Is that what ‘the saying’ is saying? Or am I just interpreting it all wrong? Since grade 4, I incessantly coddled the idea that if I alter the smudged curves and crevices on my body, I will miraculously look beautiful and feel worthy. I declared, “If I lose that extra ‘insert absurd number’ of pounds, get a nose job, boob implants, and work toward rock-hard abs I will undoubtedly be happy, cured, full of confidence and love for myself. Finally, for the first time, the worries will subside. The anxiety will fade. I will feel equal to those more beautiful than I.”

It is maddening. A fantasy. A trap. A prison of lies.

I’ll admit it though, on my worst days I want bigger boobs, a rounder ass, fewer pimples, straighter teeth, longer hair, tanner skin, god you name it. The recipe for my worst days calls for the vilest criticisms of myself. You’re pale, your thighs are thick, your ass is saggy, your stretch marks are disgusting, you have buck teeth, you’re too thin, you’re too fat, you need to ‘tone up,’ you look like an ogre.

My worst days leave me depressed, doubtful, sickeningly delusion.

As I write this, I am still 120 pounds, I stand five feet, eight inches tall, and my breasts remain, well, a handful at best. Pimples stand their ground on my face, dark circles accentuate my distinctly almond-shaped eyes, and my nose is still – how can I put it lightly? – large. The difference today? It isn’t one of my worst days. For some reason, I am not lusting after a more beautiful body. For some reason, I choose to see things a little differently.

Gratitude fills me on days like today when I wake up to a calm mind, not yet verbose, not yet powerful enough to play tricks. I sigh with relief. I am hopeful that the cunning words of yesterday will be the gentle thoughts of today. I am ready. I think. I muster up the courage to look in the mirror as objectively as possible and take in all that I see. I am gentle with myself, a tad critical, but there is no mention of a giant ogre today. I wince painfully. The thought of accepting my less-than-perfect-figure is excruciating. To take in exactly what I see without judgment or criticism?? Terrifying. The idea of accepting all that I am? Colossal.

I look. I scan. I let go, loosening the grip on everything I’ve ever known. I trace the contours of the body that carries me as eyes unknown to me reflect mine. Pimples surrender to a face. I connect the dots of stretch marks and watch as whole breasts form before my eyes. Flesh, exposed and seen, is taunted by a hungry mind, ready and waiting to pour shallow pools of imperfection into each virgin thought born. And for a moment I stand in naked embarrassment scanning the eroded shore of my body as if to say Here I am, now take this grit and wash it out to sea for good.

I give life to the ghost of fear inside as I feed its existence and it feeds on me. Yet, it is in knowing this diluted path that I choose Truth over lies.

It is a hell of a lot easier to cling to the illusion of myself, believing that I am not beautiful; I am not sexy; I am not lovable. These thoughts would be easy to befriend yet again today. These thoughts are comfortable. This path I know all too well.

Truth is… the problem is not how I look; it’s how I choose to see.

Readers, watch your thoughts. Come to know and befriend the lies that feed upon your insecurities. Yes, they are lies. Don’t believe everything your mind tells you. Believing that your opinions are the truth is the veil through which you perceive reality. Lock away each nagging thought as it arises – they can and will relentlessly fight you with each dawning sun, each hour, sometimes each minute. You don’t have to live with your illusions. Truth awaits you today… It is always there… waiting to be seen.








This is a poem

For you.

It says, I’m sorry

I miss you

Please forgive me.

I wanted to write a poem:

Illustrative, descriptive, poignant

Then I thought,

Will you even understand?

Will you even read this?

You never did.

You won’t now

Because we don’t know each other.

I fell for your eyes.

You didn’t know it then.

You don’t know now.

I’m so sorry I never spoke up.

I will never forget the day

That you will never recall.


I cannot even begin to count the number of opportunities I’ve missed out on because I, myself, chose not to be a part of them. I cannot tell you how many excuses I’ve made, how many plans I’ve broken off, how many times I’ve said No to the Universe. It wears on me, it really does. It is one of the most embarrassing things in my life to admit that my anxiety is out of control. I live a very calculated lifestyle – always making sure I’m in control of each situation (or at least convincing myself that I’m ‘in control’). If at any moment I feel I am no longer in control, anxiety builds, and a volcanic eruption of emotion ensues. Tears, heavy breathing, blotchy skin, heart racing – full blown panic attack.

Honestly, it is embarrassing, scary, humbling, and beautiful all at the same time. I’ve wanted to write about my anxiety for a few months now. I wanted to talk about how I handle it, give advice as to what works for me, even encourage others to get out there in the world again. But wow, I’ve really been struggling to speak up about it – I think because it is a daily struggle, an enormous obstacle that I have yet to overcome.

I could talk about the strides I’ve made and the new methods I’ve embraced to help calm my mind. I could tell you about the long walks I take at Eagle Creek Park in hopes of centering my anxious being. Or I could talk about the hours I spend sitting, obsessing, blissfully daydreaming about the day I will hold a published book of my own in my hands. I could tell you about meditation and the friendship I am creating, with myself. (Side note, getting to know myself is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.) I could tell you about how I’ve immersed myself in creative projects with strangers across the United States and how this literally, without a doubt, gives me hope that I am not alone; I am special; I will do great things, whatever they may be.

I could tell you about all of these wonderful things in my life, and I could tell you about my silent struggle as well. I could go on and on about the recent outbursts of crying, dry heaving, and panic I’ve experienced as more opportunity has presented itself to me. It’s quite bizarre. I could tell you how I do not now nor have I ever felt worthy of writing for other websites; how I shake nervously each time I send off an ‘original piece’ to a stranger to be judged and reviewed. I could tell you how I wait, nervously, anxiously, for hours, sometimes days, wondering when and if I will receive feedback. I could even tell you that my mind spoils the most joyous moments in my ‘career’ when I receive inquiries from companies saying they are, in fact, interested in my writing. You cannot do this, people will judge it, think it’s silly, there is no talent in this brain of yours. Yes, I could go on and on.

But really, the point of this post is just to say: the struggle is okay, whatever you may be going through, but ultimately it is your choice to deal with what is in front of you. I think every new day, every hour, every minute is an opportunity to start over again, to calm yourself, to just say that everything is okay in this moment. You’re not broken if you struggle with anxiety or depression. There’s nothing wrong with you if you are single, or divorced, or widowed. So what if you’re 15 pounds overweight? It’s okay. It’s okay if you work in a shit job right now…. It’s okay, be grateful that you have a job at all. Your occupation does not define you… Think long-term and look to where you want to be in 5, even 10 years. My point is, too often we look at our lives and always speculate, telling ourselves ‘something is wrong: fix this!’ Readers, Nothing is wrong with you! There is nothing to fix!!

I just want to encourage you to speak up about your story. I encourage you to listen to others. Start a conversation. Be sincere about your life, for once. Let your walls come down a little today. Say it straight, simple and with a smile.

This poem is just a creative way of saying: Don’t let another moment pass you by. Don’t let another minute be a missed opportunity. Don’t pass up the stranger on the street. Say hello, greet him. Call an old friend; call your Mom. Speak up!! Get off the computer. Get away from the Internet. Be a human again. Interact. Touch someone’s hand. Kiss someone’s forehead. Share a hug. Take that class you’ve been putting off. Go to the monthly dinner party that you somehow always manage to skip. Snuggle up with a book that sits dusty on your shelf. If nothing else,

Just fucking smile.

If for no one else but yourself, say yes to what is offered now. Every second, a tiny threshold appears — opening a door of opportunity in which you can step in and say Yes. Feel the enticing unknowns brush against you, and invite whatever is in front of you in. It is exciting! Uncertainty is your friend, if only you’d allow it to be. We all struggle, but don’t let it hold you back from saying yes. Be open, keep going.

Cheers, readers



Lend your ear to a flower. I think this is what she’d say….



You ask, what might my thoughts entail?

Well human, my language is beautifully frail.

I will whisper my thoughts, my wisdom, my strife

If you promise to listen to a simpleton’s life.


My birth, so humble, in a cold, damp place

Where transformation ignited my elegance and grace.

From the darkness I rose to a world brand new.

Brains remain dazed, “How is it possible she grew?”


As I stretch each day, my roots finger deep.

My inner is hopeful to unburden my grief.

My stem I admire — such strength to the core

But passersby gawk and lust after more.


Hypnotic scent upon my petals, “It is certain,” They say

“That diligent bees will visit one day.”

But the bees I loathe, for they come and they go.

It is the sun who sustains my desire to grow.


Do you follow, dear human?

Do you hear what I say?

Can you feel the music

Of my silent display?


I stand here rooted, observant of you.

You humans amaze me at how much you ‘do.’

You work, you wander, you question, you squander.

No wonder you flock as you do.


Step away from the bustle, you all come in herds.

Leave your cities behind to admire my words,

But why do you pick me so?


You lust after beauty,

You see me, you use me

And open the wounds I have sewn.


Can you feel my death

In your brilliant displays

On your tables, in vases, in windowed cafes?

When my frailty shows, tossed away I go

And you forget my life and my gift.


So human, you see, life is simple to me:

Born, I grow

To the world, I show

Love is the way, I know.


Do not pick me now,

Please step away somehow

For my gift can be yours

If you open Love’s doors

To abundance galore

This I know for sure.


Just please do not take me, bend me, or break me.

To possess me is not love at all.


Stroke me, smell me, do as you please

But leave me to bask in this cool spring breeze.

Live slowly and love all that Is on Earth.

Recycle my message

To ignite your rebirth.


I love you, dear human.

Do you love me too?

Reciprocity heals.

Let’s breathe



–Original Poem—


So many thanks to a wonderful friend who challenged me to write from the perspective of a flower and divulge my thoughts and feelings. I am beyond grateful for your creativity, inspiration, and encouragement to post this poem to the blog. Sending light and love to you! Namaste.

Luminous little Lucas

I offer to you, a ray of wisdom shown through a tiny little Buddha I call my son. During a conversation over scrambled eggs and Golden Grahams, his light filled the room and warmed my soul.


-Mom, I wish I could fly like a butterfly.

–Lucas, do you think people can fly?


–Can you fly?

-No, but I can run!


Children play, wonder, believe, and live each moment – for a living. They see the good before the bad. They hear the song in a silent wind. They do what so many of us adults cannot, or shall I say what we choose not to do. Lucas bypassed his inability to fly and excitedly focused on his strength.

Why do so many of us lose this innate positivity? Why do we dwell on what is not? What we are not? What we cannot? How do we get that excitement for living back? How can we begin to appreciate what is in front of us NOW?

It’s as though we’ve conditioned ourselves to incessantly look to the future, at that place just beyond the horizon that seems so beautiful, yet slightly out of reach. We think, “Yes, we can and WILL arrive at a more positive, more productive, more successful, more satisfying life soon, tomorrow perhaps. I call bullshit.

I don’t know much, but I do know that you will never be satisfied with who you become IF you do not see – today – that who you are right now is enough. Tomorrow will be no more satisfying than today if you do not take a moment each day to recognize all that you are: a beautiful, worthy, successful, ALIVE human being.

We are so caught up in our plans for tomorrow, how do we live for TODAY? How do we, like Lucas, see our strengths before being swallowed up by the reminders of who we are not?

We’ve all heard the saying, “Talking about our problems is our greatest addiction.” Well, STOP! And start over again. Right now. Start small. Look around you, in your office, in your home, wherever you are. Think of a few things that are right in front of you for which you are grateful. Sit with that. Admire the ‘things’ around you. Even if it’s as simple as a cup of coffee, smile – and take a sip, enjoy it. Be grateful.

Then think deeper. What are a few things about yourself that you are grateful for? Who are you, what do you do well today, here and now? What are those characteristics that make you uniquely YOU? Sit with that. As silly as it may sound, think to yourself: I am beautiful; I am doing a great job; I love you. Try it. I dare you!

See the positives in your life, and if you can’t, it’s okay to ask for help. I ask for help every day of my life, really. I email friends; I ask the sun; I consult trees, often. I ask Lucas for extra hugs and kisses when I need more affection. You, too, can have many sources of light in your life, if only you’d ask. If it scares you to ask for help, it might be a good idea to try. There is an abundance of love and support in the Universe. Are you willing to accept it?

You see? Start with gratitude. Be grateful for what IS now. Be grateful for the support you have in your life, and be grateful for who you already are. With gratitude in your heart, you can truly start to live today, now. I promise you, you WILL start to see your strengths. You WILL be able to make plans for the future while appreciating what today offers you.

For my constant sources of light – Thank you. I have an abundance of support, and we take turns, one helping the other. Some weeks, I encourage and hold those in need. Recently, my light sources instinctively know to shed tremendous light on my path. Holding my hand when I’m hesitant, allowing my worried head to rest upon their laps. I need help at times. We all do. Come back to square one. Start with gratitude. Your heart will thank you.

Cheers, readers. Take care.





Swim Into Me

The sound of your eyes,

Enchanting whispers,

Ignite a fire deep in my bones.

Sirens to my soul.

Oh dear Odysseus, to emulate your resistance,

My feeble heart cannot.

Now these eyes, they call out to me, why?


Each pupil spills a secret,

Enticing elixirs enter my body.

Exit upon intoxication of my entire being.

Why do you elicit such thoughts?

Why do you excite me so?


Dark chocolate irises

Tempt me —

Shall we dance in a sea of unknowns?

Each cornea cries,

Swim into me!

Undress the veil of thought!

This moment of uncertainty,

Blissful eternity,

Don’t blink!!

For surely you’ll lose me.


A song sung soothingly,

You invite me in tactfully,

Those eyes.

Why yes, I’ll be your cup of tea.

Promise to drink me in thoroughly?

Why deny these eyes

Laid so gently upon me?



–Original Poem–



I challenge you to look into someone’s eyes today. Feel what only his/her eyes say to you. We can say so many ‘things’ without uttering a word. Body language speaks volumes. You just have to listen.

Cheers, readers!






I’ve been thinking for a while now how I might approach the topic of forgiveness. I could write a poem with metaphors, catchy alliteration, and laughable prose. The product, at least in my hopeful writer’s mind, would be a lovely illustrative vision that dances freely in one’s mind. My fear is that the meaning would be lost on many. I think it is best that I say what I need to say with honest and raw emotions.

Honestly, my aversion to forgiveness is one of the biggest sources of anxiety in my life – and has been since I was a young girl. I am the fruitfully sponned child of divorce. A nasty, exhausting, ‘heart-pulled-out-of-your-chest-and-to-this-day-still-learning-how-to-breathe-again’ divorce left me colored with a rainbow of dysfunctional qualities. Statistics looked at me and thought, “Yep, she fits in with us quite nicely: Binge drinking, pill-popping, suicidal, teenage mother. Couldn’t have predicted it better ourselves!”  

There are days, many days, when I look at myself and think, “You pathetic fuck; get it together!” And quite the opposite, there are the occasional coffee-induced bursts of confidence that allow me to smile at my story of survival and strength. But nothing is more constant than my aversion to forgiveness. I think to myself every day, “When will I let this go? When will I let my past be my past? When will I forgive myself for all that I did wrong for so many years?”

During my childhood years, my parents were faithful providers, careful teachers, and undeniably miraculous, loving human beings. Anything my sisters and I truly needed was provided to us without hesitation. Anywhere we wanted to go, we were taken. Anything we wanted to do with our lives – productively, of course – was supported, and more importantly – encouraged by my parents.

As I mentioned, this post is about forgiveness. You might wonder: Well, what is there to ‘forgive’ when you were so clearly loved back then? What is there to be hurt about when everything was provided to you before and after the divorce? Why suffer despite the fact that your parents did everything they could for you? Why carry this burden from childhood into your adult life? Well, my answer to you is this: When a change like this takes place gradually, it is difficult to comprehend its meaning, especially for a child.

It was a slow transformation. My parents continued to provide for us, take care of us, love us, and support us. But there was a shift, a moan of sorts in my soul. An aching moan for the loss I had endured. The loss of a united family. The loss of a faith in marriage. The loss of a sure and steady foot in this world. That little girl in me lost all sense of control and all sense of herself. She was loved, yet had no love for herself. She was taken care of, but had no will to take care of herself.

I made a choice that day when the ground broke underneath my feet and tore my family in two: I chose to give up on myself.

I tell ya, I was one angry little girl at fourteen. I don’t think I blamed myself for the divorce, but I sure blamed them back then. “They fucked this up! They didn’t try hard enough. They didn’t love enough. They should have found a way. They want us to suffer. They did this to me!”  Verbal cries of ‘fuck you’ and ‘fuck this!’ soon faded and crept inward, seeping into the dusty shadows of my mind. A silent poison echoed throughout my body: “Fuck my life. Why should I give a shit? They didn’t try; why should I?

It is so easy to give into sadness and pity for oneself. Even more so when you’re a child. All you know is ‘your’ life. All you know is what YOU want; what YOU need; what makes YOU happy. I was certain that divorce didn’t ‘feel good’ to me, so therefore it must be ‘bad.’ I had no capacity for compassion, love, or empathy for my parents or anyone affected by their divorce. I couldn’t fathom it. I couldn’t attempt it. I gave up – on them, on me, on the world. I just gave up. I gave into my suffering. I fed it, every day, every hour, every minute. Like a starving lioness in search of food for her young, my suffering would pounce on any ounce of resistance. So I gave in to every emotion, to every negative thought, to every path toward self destruction.

I am still haunted by that little girl’s voice. Her fangs latched onto me ten years ago and infected me with the vilest thoughts imaginable. Her suffering is my suffering. Her tears salt my face. I carry her with me. She is a friend. She is a foe. A downright parasite, if you ask me! I hear her when I hear no one else. Yet recently I tire of her weight upon my back. My once playful strides in life are now heavy trudges across the floor, and I wonder what it will take to forgive myself in order to set her free.

I think the most beautiful aspect of childhood is the freedom to be oneself with ease and grace, without hesitation or fear. This way of life and living is free from the restraints and concerns of the ‘ego,’ so much so that the influence of the outside world is paid no attention. It was at fourteen that I chose to see a world, once so open and fresh, as a dark and hateful place. It is in this choice – ten years ago – that my life stopped. I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t know how to love anyone – myself most of all. I didn’t want to live.

So, forgiveness of what? –You asked earlier … As I said, with such a slow transition I could not see the depth and meaning of this life event. Ten years have passed now. Ten years of neglecting myself. Ten years of not loving myself. Ten years of looking in the mirror and repeating over and over: You are not now nor will you ever be beautiful, worthy, or lovable. You are broken, you are bruised, and you are worthless.” Readers, I have ten years of hate, lies, and deceit built up in my mind. And forgiving myself is the only option I have left in order to stay afloat.

Only now can I begin to feel compassion for a suffering little girl. I can’t tell you exactly what has changed or allowed me to see the necessity of freeing her. Only now can I see that she was drowning in fear, choking on the waves that crashed against her once pleasant and playful childhood. I now know that had she dived just a little deeper into the ocean and not stayed so closely to the shore, she would have found what she truly needed. As many others far more articulate than me have said time and time again, being caught by these waves of discomfort is our downfall when we fight it. Wildly fighting the undertow, we remain in the same place, allowing for fear to grow stronger and resistance to reign.

Maybe I’m at such a dark place that there is no option but to see the light. Maybe others closest to me have shown their lights upon my path and allowed for me to see the depth of my issues. I don’t know what this is – what’s happening in these moments. I think when I have these flashes of insecurity, of fear, of vulnerability; I’m beginning to see a tiny little light within. It’s not very bright, and I don’t have an eclectic vocabulary to express the vast array of emotions I feel or what is being shown to me. Really, these moments are very quiet, very still, very unfamiliar. I hear the voice of the little girl within me, yet simultaneously whispers are faintly echoed throughout. They are subtle, almost silent, but I hear them. They are compassionate and loving and momentarily guide me to feel compassion and love. It comes, and then it goes. As all things do. But I find that when this compassionate and loving feeling reappears, I begin to trust and love myself more and more each time.

I think the only ‘truth’ in my life will come when I can lay down all of the lies, the hate, the disgust I feel toward myself  – and put all of it to bed for good. I hope that in releasing this scared little girl, I will feel profound compassion and love for myself and everything around me. Perhaps that will allow me to accept my perfectly imperfect life just as it is. I’ll let you guys know when I get there. Until then, my journey continues.

I think in the end, you have to find your own way home. You have to find that place of comfort, of stillness within yourself. You must own your truth and take that first step toward healing.

My first step is forgiveness.

I hope you find the courage to take your first step too.

Cheers, readers.

photo (2)


Why Not Now?

I am honored to have yet another opportunity as a guest author for The Easier Softer Way! It is an amazingly inspirational site with thoughts on healing, meditation, spirituality, Buddhism, recovery, and much more. It provides profound insight for those in need. I wrote a post about mindfully entering the New Year called Why Not Now?  — Check it out if you have a moment

Cheers to 2014, Readers!!

With another year on the horizon, I find myself wondering why we feel the need to wait for January’s coy signal to jolt us into making resolutions. Why January? Why do we wait until after the holidays have come and passed? Why do we wait for our lives to ‘calm down’ in order to focus on our goals? Why wait at all? What are we waiting for? What is keeping us from making these resolutions today, here, now? Why do we find ourselves distracted, busied with excuses, and comforted in our procrastination? Why must we wait for anything? What are YOU waiting for?

For the original piece in its entirety — The Easier Softer Way


Related posts for The Easier Softer Way

In a Sea of Unknowns



Follow LifeofKi!

Instagram @kileybw


In Recovery

I am in recovery.

Aren’t we all? Every person I know is recovering from something —

A broken heart; addiction; loss of a loved one; failed marriage; estranged relationships; eating disorders; disease; depression and anxiety; foreclosure; abandonment issues – let me tell you, the list goes on. This is life. This is what so many of you are struggling with day to day, and it just breaks my heart each time one of you reaches out to me and shares your story. I feel your pain. I feel the struggle. I struggle too – you guys know this, and that is why I am so thankful I have this platform to share my story as it unfolds.

I am recovering from an abusive relationship with myself. You guys know this. It actually seems silly to say it like that – to articulate it in such a way that places me as the victim AND the offender, but this is my truth. It is the least I can give to you to show my appreciation for what you guys give to me each day. I’ll be honest; I am embarrassed to voice the terribly destructive thoughts that float through my mind just as a coy, fluffy cloud passes over a brilliantly blue, seemingly spotless summer sky. Within seconds of the clouds’ arrival, they chisel away at yesterday’s half-assed attempt to convince myself that I am worthy of anything. Sky is now grey with ash and soot – and all I’m left with are the tears that cleanse my soul. Back to square one, yet again. Confused, frustrated, angry with myself. How could I let this happen again? How could I let those innocent clouds become knives – cutting through each layer of my confidence? I bleed profusely, and my world is suddenly painted red with suffering and deception.

A fourteen-year-old Ki would have chosen booze…. Yes, alcohol was my friend at a young age. You’d never know it then. I was a ‘straight A’ student, a talented athlete, and I wore a pretty smile that I meticulously painted each morning as I awoke. Funny thinking about it now, I was never really awake. I was sleepwalking through my life. Yet, you saw all the potential in the world. I saw nothing but lies and pain. God, if I had only known then how much the world offers us each and every moment, every single day, I am certain I would not have slept for so long. You cannot sleep through life and truly live. As I think about her now, my heart breaks for fourteen-year old Ki. I carry a piece of her with me today. She’s still in recovery. I am teaching her slowly that hurt is a natural part of this life, but it can be managed and sorted through. Recovery is possible.

I recently found meditation. Or shall I say, meditation found me? For I am certain that the Universe offered it to me – crying out to me to take this opportunity and run with it. Fucking hold on tight, and run with it (I’m certain that this is how the Universe speaks – this is your cue to chuckle). A wonderful friend of mine sent me a link to Oprah and Deepak’s Desire and Destiny 21-day meditation class. Something deep within me whispered that day: This is a bit out of your comfort zone, but you have no other choice. You’ve exhausted all other options. This will be your therapy. This is where you – Ki — will rest easy. You cannot do this alone anymore. Being strong does not mean you must walk a path of recovery alone. Let this be your guide. You will not regret it. You deserve this. Yes, you DESERVE this.

And I never looked back. I have been quietly meditating since November 13, 2013. I am confident in saying that it has changed my view of this life completely. This post is not an opportunity to ‘plug’ Oprah and Deepak and sell you a CD on meditation (no, I did not get paid for providing the link). I’m telling you guys that you MUST find something that guides you in your recovery, whatever it may be. TRY EVERYTHING!! If exercise is your meditation, then get a gym membership today! If reading is where you find your bliss, then by all means get in the car and go to the nearest bookstore and stay until it closes. If going to church is where you feel your heart mends the quickest, go to the next available service – and if you’re too hesitant to try it out, send me an email and I will go with you! (Provided you are in the Midwest, USA)

Please, please, please take it from me – if you do not know your path in life and you do not know what helps you become a better version of yourself – then you must keep on trying. Dip your toes in foreign waters. Hell, I’ve tried on religion after religion; considered joining the police force (what??!); thought having a child would fix me (This IS NOT THE ANSWER, I PROMISE YOU. Children bring happiness and joy – but they WILL NOT FIX YOU); I even joined a local group of Instagrammers who share my obsession with photography, and this has worked out wonderfully for my social and mental health. My point is you must keep searching. You must keep testing new waters. Some of these endeavors will do wonders for your recovery. Some, well… just won’t. But that is the beauty of this life: You have the choice to try new things. You have the choice to overcome that which you perceive as a struggle. Release the fear. Let go of the thought that you are struggling. Recovery is positive. It is an opportunity to learn and grow. Your setbacks are beautiful because in the end, they provide you a new opportunity – a new direction – in this beautiful life.

The catch?? Only YOU can do this. Only YOU can walk your path.

As Oprah and Deepak often remind me — Moments themselves are the gifts. The journey itself, the rich reward. Find the gifts in every problem in your life. Start over today. It’s okay to admit you didn’t get it right the first time. Recovery is a second chance at life! A rebirth!

As I’ve said before, we can always begin again. I’ll be here; anxiously awaiting your emails, your pictures, your smiles as you tell me what it is that nourishes your soul and guides you toward a healthy recovery. I am with you.

And I will chat with you soon.

Cheers, readers.


photo (3)


Inspiration for this post:

–The place where this little dove has flown and found a home; your heart; your love; all of YOU–

–Poet: Jules R. Ryckebusch

–Musician: Edward Maya