Every so often, I get a wicked bout of insomnia. It used to strike with more frequency when I was younger and not so mellow and low-keyed, but it’s back and with a vengeance. Continue reading “The Insomniac’s Dreams”
When I had my daughters, I was self-employed. I had ample time to devote my full attention to my girls. Attending to them was innate – and very satisfying for all of us. What wasn’t great about my being self-employed, was having to travel and sometimes, internationally. I knew it was a gift to be paid so handsomely to see the world, but to be honest, I didn’t really like corporate public speaking. It was transient and while it was great that the “X-product/system 2.0” worked great, I sought more meaning for what I was pitching. I needed to get closer to helping humankind on a level that coincided with my core values. Continue reading “The Megaflop Mom’s Mercy”
I am not marching today and am cranky about missing it. I am grateful for each person who invests in the action to halt what I refuse to believe is the “new normal.” ‘Nuff said about that.
As this week progressed, I found myself holistically bankrupt, with scarcely ANY resource left inside of me to offer to anyone, especially myself. Continue reading “The Perfect Crash”
Over the holiday weekend, as I enthusiastically participated in one of my favorite conferences of the entire year, I had several work deadlines hanging over my head. I kept trying to center myself and be as present in the moment as I could, but the pressure of having to produce, kept haunting me. Continue reading “Haunting Dead-lines and Hydration”
I never wonder if I, or anyone else has “the right to be depressed.” I think the very idea seems way off. Throughout my life, I have heard others validate or invalidate individuals (and sometimes, me), on whether enduring depression is acceptable,“ridiculous,” or to be expected. It seems to me, these opinions appear to be based almost solely on measurable logistics. For example, Continue reading “Depression Has Nothing to do with Rights”
Sometimes, (many times), I look at my writing from title to conclusion and just think,
Big, fat, barf.
Years ago, I believed I was unintelligent. As a child, I worked very hard to hide my perceived stupidity and the shame that accompanied it. I was convinced that anytime I appeared to be intelligent, it was artificial. Naturally, this internal messaging, along with other self-mutilating messaging, was totally false. Continue reading “A Love Letter to Artificial Progress & Real Regression”