Dragon In You

 Sometime I wonder why I was given such an awful title. Widow. I wrestled not only with that title but the one of daughter, wife, friend. All these identities attached to me and yet I feel like oil and water. I don't fit any mold and yet I fit them all. A daughter does this, a friend does that. Well. A widow most certainly does not almost divorce her almost late husband. A widow does not battle with her inner voice that wanted autonomy from the person who hurt her when she also wants to be able to love and miss the man he was before he was lost to PTSD and Addiction.  A widow like me wonders if he was always lost though so if that's the case then he was never actually found, ever. To which that means she never knew him. So why did she categorize him as her best friend? A quick to judge person might judge that "best friend" comment as love bombing or Stockholm Syndrome. Someone who's heard me unload my heart of the devastations in our marriage and now I'm claim...

It has taken me decades to begin to understand boundaries. The phrase "protect your peace" has had a creeping dark shadow of fear of abandonment and also prevalent, shame for leaving. Many times on this journey of life have I felt the pulling of 'if only I had' or 'If only they had'. And I had found myself often in mental torment. With intrusive thoughts minute by minute trying to dissect every word, action, breath... To no avail. I have never been able to truly know what others are thinking. Even if honest in the moment, moments change people grow or change their minds. I know this because this is true for me. So how do we have faith and forge relationships when at the end of the day we only have ourselves? How do we put forth new content like blogs and books and reels when others have done it before? How do we find gumption and fervor in bones? How do I do things that are beyond my abilities and turn to my children and tell them to do the same? How do I act ...

I've spent much of my life reflecting. Usually in the form of either by whiplash into a moment I wasn't expecting, or in very sacred moments I start by anticipate days, weeks or months before an annual date presents itself to me. I'm here to tell you about one year ago, ten years ago, and... today. One year ago I sat broken hearted and shattered in my home. I had tried it the hard way for decades. Pulling strength I didn't have to barely make through the day. One year ago I wrote on my social media: "Do I eat chocolate or tell people it still hurts. Both. 9 years ago I married Michael. 6 years after that Micheal died. With 50,000 things in between. And I'm sure l've been judge for 50,000 of them. 2 years later I'm still searching for community and a place to feel at ease. I have not processed a lot of this. But my body is telling me I need to. So l'm sitting down. I'm pulling up a chair. And I'm offering to be seen. I am the bride in the pic...

  June 29 2020: I had to bring immense purpose to my life. To my daily schedule. Leave nothing to chance. Wake up. Yoga. Care for kids. Matcha. music. All to live. In, around, over, under, and within peace. Collectively. Leaving no time for destruction. Not suppressing sadness or anger. But channeling hope. Channeling my dreams. Driving towards release. To find me. To free my children of grown up fears. Emotions that create monsters in closets.  Emotions that lead to imagination running into the darkest woods. Not meant for innocence. Not ok for those in pain. Those whose innocence has since fled are still entitled to humanity’s grace. I beg you give me grace. It started with the Red Sea parting. I drove forward. With raging waters on both sides of me. So daunting, it felt like I was squeezing through a pinhole. A tiny speck of Earth that was destined for me. Destined for my serenity. Allowing myself to trek on towards peace.  And to my surprise. The rain came down. ...

We crown ourselves and set jewels of 'It's my right to do that!' all around. Walking around with heads held high, tiaras kept straight. But let me tell you of the danger of mixing up nice and kind.  It is nice to be authentic. It is nice to own your space. It is nice to do what you want to do because it brings you happiness. But then there it sits in the corner. Hello kind, would you like the stage for a minute? Let me tell you a story of a nice Halloween decoration. It was nice, for the owner. They enjoyed it... yada yada yada.  As the years of Halloween progressed I started with a mindset of "How fun is this for my child Ronan", to sending Ronan's dad photos because he was deployed, then finally doing Halloween together as a family in Utah with our newborn baby girl, and Pennsylvania as a family of 4, then a recently separated on the path of divorce single mom halloween in San Diego with two very small children. All of which were fairly regular albeit some s...

This post isn't meant to make you sad, but I've been feeling a little sad lately. As I've thought for days, well who am I fooling: for weeks, months. Years. I think sometimes of the odd reality I live in. Married and single. I became a widow at age 29. I gave my husband all of my 20's. I spent my 20's working, next married, then having children, being so incredibly grateful to be a stay at home mom. I also spent them confused, terrified, and in despair for my late-husband's mental health. Now a single mom staring blankly at the question of "to be, or not to be (dating), that is the question." I've not been on a date in a long time. Honestly, the comedian on stage yesterday said it perfectly: "I feel like a door that says push, that everyone is trying to pull." What would it even mean to date? A question that I think I'm too traumatized still to answer. I have my push ways and get rubbed up against pull people. I look at the flow of th...

We have all been there. I’ve been "there" through every iteration and identity I’ve claimed, then disowned. As I’ve transitioned and identified myself with one thing, then to another. The pattern I’ve noticed is it always starts with something that is good for my mental health, a bandaid or a way to cope. Something that brings me maybe temporary relief or longer lasting feeling of safety.  So it’s no wonder I’ve been afraid to commit. With what felt like a wayward heart that was ever changing upon finding new information that I felt more closely I related to. I’ve woken up to normal days that have ended in earth shattering, life altering, new identifications slapped on me without my consent. My husband and wife relationship died slowly over years and then in an instant and forever, as a widow. I’ve had days that felt like years and looked back at years that felt like days. It seems as though “the only constant thing in life is change” became my walking billboard.  Until it wa...