Monday, February 16, 2015

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Valentine’s Day 2011 was the first time we heard Lucy’s heartbeat.  I took her Elmo and pink balloons yesterday and the cemetery was windy and cold.

The internal spectrum I have to envelop on holidays, the crystal sharpness of image and memory, is far beyond the usual and honestly I’m really fucking tired tonight even though it was a good, surprisingly fun weekend in all sorts of ways.

Tobin’s little hands gripping measuring cups, being so careful not to spill flour and sugar as he “dumped” ingredients into the bowl for pop tart dough, shaking the container of “sparkles” over pink frosting for his valentines.

My hands looking a little blue from being cold and sending me into a total terror remembering death-colored skin, sobbing the rest of a random drive to Hyvee.

Hanging onto the hand of the man I will always love no matter what, buckling in and hanging on. (I love you so much Jonny.)


I did make a fairly ridiculous playlist on Spotify, click here to listen



Saturday, February 7, 2015


life is just this crazy meal of beauty and pain. over the past two weeks i have taken the the bitterest and the sweetest bite–the most unconventional cures, the most unexpected blows.

in california i was reminded what it feels like to just be a girl–away from my roles, playing all day. eating nothing but organic veggies, kombucha, fresh-pressed juice, wine, and $4 happy-hour tacos full of fish like butter.

i hiked miles in clear bright and quiet, the hazy blue sea as still as the clouds. i paddled on a surf board, felt an addicting surge of nervousness at the ocean’s pull, poured a jug of sun-warmed water over myself to rinse salty hair and skin after. (laughing when i realized you get naked in the parking lot to get into your wetsuit, then putting it on backwards and having to get naked again.) driving a bumpy dirt road far into the mountains to sit in hot springs under the moon, the only sound in the bowl of quiet hills bullfrogs, and our soft voices over the steam…

crying the same chemistry of tears with another angel mama, skipping over everything to the place we share. starting a friendship already friends.

a taste of paradise and a reminder that it’s all so complicated, that perfection is impossible even in the most perfect places, with the must perfect food and scenery and yoga studios and people. that our stories will never be neatly tied up–that we breathe in deeply the peaceful and beautiful gifts of life before we’re plunged back under. before we arrive home to dark airport parking lots, our cars under a foot of snow–cold, sickness, conflict. reality for all its good and hard.

the hot springs soothed and healed the winter cracks on my hands–even still, after a week of being back. my hair was never softer than that night, the entire trip a balm of bright and warm and this spark of getting a chance to be as young as i am. to laugh non-stop, out late dancing with peruvians–sweaty hair lifted off my neck, fingers tingling up my scalp. feeling happy–yes, happy! craving to touch my boys at home, missing them, reaching out to them from a reciprocal and warmed soul when i returned.

i love the picture above, me on the edge of the hot springs, because i feel like it encapsulates my beautiful trip. the soul shift i felt, and am still finding the words for: i am still me, still hungry for life, still a woman who wants to love and be loved. no person in church nor therapist in an office can prescribe the exact regimen to heal me because paradise isn’t here on earth, but yet in those tastes of it–the lush beauty and rushing life that i crave–i feel the divine draw of a Designer who can heal, who could create the kind of eternity i’m interested in. entrust my daughter to. i am ready to look at my life with clearer eyes, to plunge back into this weariest work of grief. to think about why i’ve connected with the incredible people i have, the gift each human connection is if i stop to ponder it…what good can be done together, as a result.

on i go, into my life. feeling like i’ve tasted too much for my age. winter still here, messy work to be done–drawing on both memories and moments of warmth until spring comes back to me.


to the donor of my plane tickets: you truly have no idea how thankful i am, from the bottom of my heart.


happy new year!

Monday, January 5, 2015


i brought in 2015 with sake bombs and kisses and some of my very favorite people, and the sun was shining on new year’s day. christmas was really pretty great–abundant and for the most part relaxing. my son turned two. i cried a lot but it felt better than being numb to miss lucy, to be sad and angry, to release. i’m starting to get glimpses of just how closely i’ll carry her my whole life, starting to feel this permanent warm dwelling for her in my heart where the numb has been. i’ve said before that it’s like being pregnant with sadness and love, aware even when unaware. maybe i am also starting to get used to the feeling of being a stranger: half of my heart searching out the mystery of eternity, half of my heart here on this weird planet that floats in the stars, fully here and wanting to take all i can from the time i have. i think i’ll eventually feel more sure of the things unseen, a stronger and more peaceful cohesion, but i have work to do and time to wait before i’m to that place. (can i mention here that grief is so filled with paradox? for everything i write, i feel this “wait, but”–and an opposite emotion arises. every day is different and i am randomly blindsided, i go back and forth between the stages so fluidly…i think that’s why i haven’t blogged much.)

 i wanted to write a few words about where i am and a few things i’m looking forward to, in no particular order and in varying degrees of importance. so here goes, 2015–this year i’m excited to invest in tobin’s mind and creativity, excited that he’s ready for even more structure and stimulation. i’m excited about la parfait jars in the pantry full of healthy food; i’m excited about replacing towels and saving up for enough new flatware to feed an army, about making our guest bedroom cozier and bringing people in as i feel ready. (hosting has been hard. having to be “on”. fighting anxiety. i have struggled, but i’ve also felt a rush of love to be generous and full of hospitality and i know i’m on the road to having an open and welcoming home, that this is one way what happened has changed me for the better.) i’m excited about cow hides and some new plant friends for our room. i’m excited about yoga. i’m excited about my business, growing both professionally and in leadership. i am excited to reach for higher things in my spirit, my mind, things beyond what i was raised to take for granted. i am excited to have adventures and TRAVEL, finally!

i find myself taking on new challenges slowly. even planning a dinner date is hard at times, much less a business venture. i’m afraid because action brings expectations and responsibilities that i might be too weak for–i am often feeling like i’m letting someone or myself down as it is. but i can do my best, give myself grace, and be thankful that there are things i still feel interested in enough to take that risk. one step at a time. i find myself ready to leave dishonesty behind. i have learned that honesty is aggressive; i used to see it as merely passive, just the absence of lies–but it actually takes an incredible amount of presence and energy. i’m finding myself equal parts appreciative, and skeptical of internet friendships and audience. i feel drawn to blog more in 2015 because i have benefitted from others who share, but that’s about all i’m sure i’ll go forward with at this point. my grief isn’t validated by the attention it receives or doesn’t receive.

so. HOME. HONESTY. HEALING. HAVING ADVENTURE. HUSTLIN (white mercedes in 2015?!?) i will raise a moscow mule to the letter “H” it appears. hope you all had a beautiful christmas and new year; thank you for coming along with me.