Can’t Wait

I posted this blog one year ago about a small moment (which became quite big), in which I keyed my words more clearly and authoritatively than I’m used to. Being an over-achieving people pleaser has its abrupt stops, especially when it concerns your child and their safety or just your own, desperate, parental need to squeeze them as hard as you can while you know you can.

I’ll never regret spending too much time with my small son who’s not so small anymore, the more I look at him.

He told me last night I was a “cool mom” because I play video games with him. Little does he know that it’s *I* who thinks *he is* cool for playing video games with me, his silly, anxious mom.

All I can think is how much I love him. While the world burns everywhere, the love I have for him is a certain, tangible tether that keeps me anchored. I try, so hard, to be the same for him.

Our colleagues, clients, and bosses should always understand this. I’m grateful that my small day job is comprised of people who seem to. I know we’re not all so lucky. But perhaps the more we normalize little moments like this, the more we’ll spread understanding that there is nothing more important than protecting those you love, even if it’s from something you’ve fabricated in your head because of the deluge of stories that would have you fear the worst in a world that seems to keep experiencing her worsts.

A tale from a doctor’s office: “Can’t Wait” – by me.
Love you,

A Donkumentary

I stumble off an elevator 15 minutes late for a doctor’s appointment. Out of breath, I take my place in line wondering if I should craft an elaborate excuse for the woman at the check-in counter as to why I was late or if I should just be honest that it’s for no other reason than having miscalculated the time it would take to get there. A web-spun story could make me feel more responsible than the truth: that I just didn’t think it through all the way. I’d hate for her to think I just messed up.

I tell her I’m sorry I’m late and thankfully, there’s no opportunity to provide an excuse or reason, so the decision is made for me—I remain mysteriously late. She says it’s okay, that there was a cancelled appointment sometime after mine if I wouldn’t mind waiting. Of course I wouldn’t mind and…

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Bright Pink Cast

The below is from a blog I posted a year ago about a little girl in a bright, pink cast that she didn’t want. I’m in my mid-thirties now, still trying to untangle the hard-wiring of being a people-pleaser which often ends me up in situations I never wanted. I’ve learned over time that “people pleasing” is a trauma response, but there’s a lot more digging to be done there.

Anyway, I like this blog I posted and as we move into the anxiety-inducing holidays, perhaps you can find yourself a cozy blanket to be signed. I’ll proverbially sign it for you, if you want or need it.

“There is no cast for the shattered remains of your dignity. The owness is on you to pick them up, one by one, and puzzle them back together. And it sucks. It sucks when you realize there’s no one who will sign your cast and it’s glaring neon pink, reminding you day in and day out how bad it hurts.”

I love you, I really do,

A Donkumentary

I broke my left wrist two years in a row from two different accidents in the 3rd and then the 4th grade. Being only 8 and then 9 at the time, I guess the breaks hindered my wrist development because to this day, both the mobility and strength in that left joint are limited. That arm is the slightest bit shorter, too. I remember the pain and the subsequent casts I had to wear. For the first break, I told the doctor I wanted a black cast when presented my color options, but he told me I should get pink because little girls like pink and that way, my friends could sign it. 

He didn’t know that I didn’t like pink, that I’d get made fun of for pink, and that I didn’t have any friends and of course I didn’t tell him that. So I got the bright pink…

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Little Nest

I found this fallen nest this morning while out feeding my critters. My mind can't help but go to the little owl who's been hooting a lonely, somber hoot for days, if not weeks, every morning before the sunrise...(the one I mentioned here only days ago: I did hear her this morning, long before... Continue Reading →

Little Owl

It's my favorite time of day: the darkest, heaviest sky before dawn when fog lurks around, low on the ground, like a slithering dragon on the prowl. I'm standing in my living room, the four large windows gateways to faint outlines of familiar trees and the barn. Somewhere out there, a small hoot calls from... Continue Reading →

Spaghetti Noodles

Below, I've linked to a blog I posted earlier this summer---a post in which I got caught red-handed in a people-pleasing loop by a friend that turned out to be my own hands suffocating me. Everything in the world feels so fractured, polarized, fragile, and honest-to-God scary and I can't help but think a piece... Continue Reading →

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