Week 2: Let's Be Honest, I Kind of Suck at Slowing Down

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Back in July when this whole move came about I felt deeply in my gut that one of the main reasons I was being called to move to Bodega and live this way of life was to slow down and simplify so that I could really figure out who I am and what I am here for.

Well, almost three months in and I must confess. I kind of suck at the slow down.

On my drive to Encinitas this week I was deep in thought about how something just felt off. I’m not going to sugar coat it. The last two months have been hard. Transitions are never easy and I have no idea why I always think the next one I’ll just glide through it with absolutely no bumps, no questioning, no anything remotely emotional (Said the most emotional person in the world. Insert eye roll here). Now mind you, I don’t just go through small transitions. All mine are like, uproot and change every aspect so I feel totally unstable and ungrounded kind of transitions. And this one was definitely no different.

And I should have known better when I broke my foot and had a sudden relationship ending all within the span of three days a week before I moved that this one was probably going to take the cake. That life, something bigger, was pushing me out of the next. It was time to get really uncomfortable.

While at The Home Depot a week and a half before I left, I dropped a 4 ft by 8 ft sheet of plywood on my left food from about 2-3 feet up and watched it all happen in slow motion as I lost my grip and the wood came crashing down before I could get my food out of the way.

Then, three days later over dinner the guy I was seeing and I ‘accidentally’ broke things off. I’m serious. We were fully intending to continue exploring our relationship from a distance but I now see that that wouldn’t have worked for me. I still look back and think, WTF happened there?

THAT my friends, is a perfect example of how the Universe steps in because you aren’t doing the very thing you know you need to do. I knew he wasn’t right but he was a really amazing guy and there were SO many things about him that did feel right it was easier for me to not listen to that small voice in the back of my mind that was saying, “Nope. This is still not it but it’s close.”

So when I wasn’t icing and elevating my foot and trying to figure out why the hell my relationship ended out of nowhere, I was looking up into the heavens with a smirk saying, “Ok, ok! Jeez la weez! Pipe down up there I’m picking up what you are laying down already.

Let go and surrender.

But sometimes I don’t want to surrender. Sometimes, I really want to control every single aspect of my life until my insides are wound up so much that I explode like one of those creepy Jack In the Box’s because I can’t take the pressure any longer.

So I moved here with a broken foot and a super bruised heart and sat alone in a yurt in the middle of nowhere wondering what the fuck did I just do.

All the while in the back of my head I kept hearing a voice say, “Just slow down Amanda. It’s okay to slow down.”

So I tried. Some of it was unintentional because the emotional force of the transition had me literally paralyzed at times…with a broken foot. Other times I remembered that little voice in the back of my head and intentional tried to discern what slowing down even meant.

To be clear, that little voice in the back of my head is something we all have. It’s called our higher self, our intuition, our inner guidance. It’s the one that told me to move to Encinitas and also told me to buy a saw. It’s the one that told me to look on my ex-husbands computer and ultimately leave my marriage. It’s the one that says, “don’t go down that dark road.” The one that always guides me to my next thing and never leads me astray. And I remembered that about a year and a half ago, it started telling me to slow down and simplify my life.

Except, what I realized on my drive to Encinitas this past week was that I’m not exactly sure I even know what that means for me. And that I am really good at pretending I’m slowing down but in reality, I’m still just busying myself and my mind.

I also think it’s easy to look around and see other’s definitions and take bits and pieces of what they are doing and apply it to our own reality which in part is a way of figuring out what is true for you and I was doing that but something felt off.

Most of the time I think I’m slowing down but I’m really still doing. Like for example, I take Baker on walks and bring my phone and listen to music or a podcast. Sometimes that’s fine but mostly it’s just another distraction. Or I sit on my couch and work on macrame or weaving something on my new handmade loom while watching another episode of Scandal and I convince myself this is the slow down. And maybe for some people it is. But for me, something still fells off.

So on my drive to Encinitas I thought more about this. How the week leading up to this trip I was rushing and caught back in the hustle of getting it all done and I just kept thinking, I don’t like this feeling. I mean, I LOVED most of what I was doing. I was back to creating and just so in the flow but I also felt the old stories of validation from my business start to creep back up. Look at me I’m SO BUSY. I must be worthy now.

And I know very clearly I don’t want that existence. And I’m tempted to say that I know there will be times in life where the hustle is sometimes necessary but is it? Or is that just a deep seeded conditioning by society. Have we just been so programmed to believe that we really need to work hard to play harder? Do we really have to burn the candle at both ends to feel successful?

So today I’m back from my trip down to Encinitas where I was commissioned to make this barn door and I’m recommitted to understanding what the slow down truly means to me. And to understand this, I have to get quiet and really listen.

To be continued.

Week 1: What If We Are Attacked by Zombies? Irrational Thoughts In a Giant Tent

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“Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live.” - Dorothy Thompson

Someone asked me recently if I get scared of living in the middle of nowhere in a giant tent. I paused and thought about this for a moment remembering that sometimes I’d leave my doors unlocked at night in my house in the suburbs of Encinitas yet here, I double and triple check my locks before crawling into bed.

The funny thing is, I know logically I am safer here but the years of binge-watching horror movies have me convinced otherwise. I can’t help but think that where I currently live is the perfect setting for a horror movie.

Overall, I feel pretty safe. Except for the horrific noise I woke up to the other night which resembled what I would consider a cross between a velociraptor and…a zombie. If you don’t know what a velociraptor sounds like, I will kindly point you in the direction of my eight-year-old nephew Henry and he will happily educate you.

I can assume this noise, however, was the proud grunts of some animal consuming something it just caught and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was dining on my beloved cat Louie who never came home that night. (Don’t worry, he came home alive and well)

When I first moved here a girl I know by acquaintance sent me a message on Facebook suggesting I get a gun because “although it’s mostly safe, there are some weirdos!” Not much of a gun person, I brushed off the suggestion with a slight eye roll for what I thought was a bit of an overreaction. Admittedly, I did have a brief thought about how much more efficient it would be to ward off zombies if we were, in fact, ever attacked by them if I had a gun. A gun would come in a lot handier than my already dull kitchen knife. But other people live on the property so, at the very least, I know someone will hear me scream. (just kidding ma. take a deep breath)

But sometimes I do think about Zombies though. Like, what would I do if I looked out the window and saw something that resembled a human but with gaping wounds, a slight limp and an eerie discoloration that resembled the leader of the free world because let's be honest, I’ve questioned if Trump is a zombie too, hobbling my way from the bottom pasture? You think I’m joking but if you see one Walking Dead episode, you start to mentally prepare and pray to God that if it does come true they’d at least be the slow kind. Fast zombies, like in 28 Days Later, and well, we are all F#*ked. The end. Story over.

The short answer though is no, I don’t really get too scared living in my yurt. Other than occasionally, as in, cough cough, every night, double and triple-checking my locks, I feel pretty damn safe. Sometimes I remember that I live in a giant tent and I start to laugh at the realities of my current conditions and how if someone really wanted to get in, it wouldn’t be too terribly hard.

But mostly I feel safe.

But this makes me think about how much we are subconsciously conditioned by things like media and movies and pop culture and how what we allow into our lives greatly affects the reality of our thoughts. And it makes me ask: how much of what we allow into our awareness really does influence our irrationalities?

Like, I know very well that zombies don’t really exist but the idea still scares me. I was a horror movie buff when I was a little kid after all. I have no clue why but I frigging loved scary movies but I can’t help but wonder if that somehow contributed to some of my irrational fears. Hello JAWS. Thanks for making it almost impossible for getting in the ocean water!

But I loved horror movies when I was young. Often my parents left me at my God family’s house and my mom remembers walking into the living room when it came time to pick me up and my three or four-year-old self was standing about two feet from their big-screen TV. Remember those back in the ’80s?. Those big, oversized square things that protruded out into the middle of the living room? These things did not mount from the wall. They sat there, big and intrusive and at Christmas, your mom used the top of the TV to create the perfect little Christmas Village.

So image my younger self, standing two feet away, my big blue eyes wide open and fixated on Jason in Halloween slashing some young, blonde twenty-somethings big perky chest.

I’m not sure what shocked me more, the blood and the act of slashing or the boobs. At that time, both horrified me (and kind of fascinated me) because well, why would one human ever do that to another? As for the boobs, I was mostly confused because mine did not look like that.

Flash forward thirty some odd years later and I can confirm that my boobs do in fact look like those now. But definitely not as perky. Or big. But wait. We aren’t talking about my boobs, are we? If you want to read more about those I suggest you read this post here.

I digress. Oh yeah, irrational thoughts about zombies.

Today, I can’t watch The Walking Dead. I can’t even watch Criminal Minds which was a show I used to love. Something started happening when I started to “wake up” a bit. I found it harder and harder to be around or watch things that pushed violence or a lot of darkness. Stay with me here. Yes, I’m about to go all woo woo on you.

I’ve read this many times. That a spiritual awakening of sorts often brings a deeper sensitivity to energy. That is why it can be an extremely lonely experience. As you raise your personal vibration, your consciousness, things, and people start to fall away as your sensitivity to it begins to heighten.

So as I started to take more inventory on my internal landscape several years ago and pull back some layers, things like shows with zombies biting the jugular of a human neck became harder to watch. Call me crazy but it makes sense.

It is amazing to me how many shows that glorify torturous acts are on TV and how a lot of us watch these shows before going to bed. So much happens on a subconscious level when we sleep, if you wake up with anxiety, may I suggest you take a closer look at what you watch before turning in?

It’s not a cure-all but it definitely has helped me.

However, for the past two months until about two weeks ago, I noticed that my irrational thoughts, anxiety, and worry started to really creep back in. I suspected, and now know that the internal upheaval from the transition of my move created a lot of inner chaos and decided to shine a big spotlight on all my unresolved trauma, limiting beliefs and low self-worth. And there is nothing like sitting all alone in a giant tent in the middle of nowhere with all of that to keep you company.

Now I understand that most people would read this and ask, “Amanda, why would you ever subject yourself to that?”

My answer? Because it’s what I’m being called to do. I don’t know how to explain it but in the pit of my stomach I know that the main purpose of this move is to get me to finally dive deeper into all that unresolved stuff and find some freedom from it.

But first, I have to feel it to heal it.

Because truth be told, all that unresolved trauma, those deep-seated limiting beliefs, and areas of crippling low self-worth are holding me back from living a life on purpose. My true purpose.

If I’ve learned anything over the last year it is that when we don’t truly believe we are worthy of something in the deepest part of our subconscious being, no matter how bad we want said something it will never fully come to be until we truly believe we deserve it. That’s just basic energy 101. But THAT is for another post. In the meantime, if you want to learn more about it read this post from the woman I’ve learned so much on this topic.

So, for the last two months, I’ve really been in it. Even deeper then I have before and in an entirely new way.

I’ve been sifting and assessing and analyzing and trying my very best to rise up into my worth by learning to let things go. Like, let things go in a totally different way. In a way, I’m not even sure how to explain it yet. Old stories and beliefs, people, places, and energies.

But every now and then and irrational thought creeps up and out.

Like, what if we are attacked by zombies?

And I have to wonder what’s worse, zombies? Or all the trauma, most of which asn’’t even mine, that has been lying dormant inside me for all these years…

The Deafening Sounds of Silence: On Being Alone

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“I do not understand the mystery of grace -- only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us.”
Anne Lamott

The other night I woke around 2 a.m., sweat dripping down my back and chest, which I speculate is due to fluctuating hormones as the temperature in my yurt is rather cool in the middle of the night.

I woke from a dream. I was surrounded by my childhood friends and their husbands of years and there I stood, completely encircled yet utterly alone. I lay there in the pitch black of night ruminating on the length of time each of them had been with their spouses and comparing my constant singleness with their holy matrimony. Then it came, pangs of envy crept up as the self inflicted judgments I’d been stuffing down with affirmative pleasantries surfaced.

How am I still single? What is so wrong with me that no one ever wants to stay? Why do I keep attracting men who don’t really want me?

Another recent relational “ending” has my childhood abandonment issues fiery hot and the sadness that had been empaling my heart for the last few days finally starting to loosen and bubble to the surface. The old and deeply engrained beliefs flashed in front of my face in the dark of the night.

They all leave. Every one of them always leaves.

This belief, deeply buried in the pits of my subconscious mind, has been on repeat since I was a child and has been the driver in most of my relationship choices. My father, although physically present until my teens when he wasn’t gallivanting around with mistresses or spending his time at the local bar numbing his own emptiness with Bud Light or Vodka, emotionally and mentally never really was. This taught me all I was worth was emotionally disconnected men. Or men who loved other women. Or men who loved other shiny objects more. Or men who liked to energetically steal everything from me until I am frail and weak and lying on the floor as they finally walked away. Or, Or, Or….

At one week shy of thirty-nine, this storyline is getting really old. However, the depths of it’s roots is only now obvious to me.

And it’s accompanied by silence.

Silence, can be mighty painful. But so can sitting in a room full of people.

A conversation I had with my mom right before I moved comes to mind as she shared the worries of my family with me. “Honey, we think it’s great. The only thing we are just a little worried about is how isolated you will be.” I listened as she shared her concerns and thought about the irony of what she was saying. If only she knew just how alone I’ve felt in a room full of all of them.

And I am reminded, combating aloneness, is an inside job.

I’ve been in enough settled relationships to know that the void is full only until it no longer is and the unhappiness and abandonment we are often running from eventually starts to resurface.

At some point I fell back to sleep and woke later feeling a bit better. Another day, I think as Baker slowly inches his way towards me from the foot of the bed. I’ve always been a morning optimistic. A new day means a chance to get it right. My sadness doesn’t creep in until the sun sets and I reflect back on the days failed promises to myself. This is mostly due to overcommitting and thinking I can do more then I can in a day. Something I am working on.

Baker and I both eagerly escape the clutches of the warm comforter and begin our morning routine. I’ll never know who is more excited about the break of a new day, Baker for his breakfast or me for my coffee and a chance to start over.

After Baker’s belly is full and my coffee is pressed, I stand staring out my back french doors at the vastness that is now my backyard.

Sometimes being alone hurts I think and other times it doesn’t. It’s that simple. That’s the ambiguity of life. The conundrum. And often it can fluctuate throughout the day.

The lyrics from a song. The change of the wind bringing a reminiscent smell of longing. A quick wondering of thoughts wondering what they are doing right now. A deep missing of someone long gone.

It can creep in and twist the emotional dial just a bit until your loneliness is present once again.

Sometimes I relish in the silence and other times it’s as if someone is stabbing tiny needles into my skin over and over and I would do just about anything to crawl out of it and not have to be alone with myself for one more minute.

Other times I imagine what the inside of my loneliness looks like. Slices of Swiss cheese. Full of many holes desperate to be filled.

There are times when the idea of having to fill all those holes myself seems daunting when it feels so much easier to stuff them full of insignificant and meaninglessness like I use to. The downside of growth is it’s just so hard to go back when you now know better.

So I don’t stuff and I just sit. I sit knowing it will rise up and out and pass, often, like a painful kidney stone. But pass it will and once it does it’s gone. And that hole, that hole is somehow magically filled. With what I still don’t quite fully understand but I think it’s called God’s Grace and it looks a little something like peace.

Peace and love and grace.

And sometimes things like sugar and spice and all things nice.

And it’s new to me, God’s Grace and peace, but I like it. I like it better then the suffering and the stuffing of meaninglessness.

I like it so I don’t stuff anymore.

Instead, I wait.

For the peace and the love and the grace.

I just wait and stare out my french doors and sip my coffee.

Does Surrendering Really Work?

“I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had no where else to go. My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day.” 

― Abraham Lincoln

Surrender. It’s a word thrown around so often and so casually that I feel, in some ways, we’ve lost sight of just how profound the very act of surrendering can be.

I’ve been in one too many yoga classes where the instructor touts some paraphrased version of this idea picked up in a book or from another teacher that I can’t help but wonder how many of them truly practice the suggestion they are regurgitating back to us? How many of them actually understand the true meaning of surrender? How many of them are mindfully letting go each and every day?

But then again, I found myself wondering if I even understand the meaning of the word myself?

As a self-proclaimed control freak, 'letting go' and 'surrendering' have often evoked a lot of eye rolls from me but mostly a lot of deep frustration and anxiety because honestly, I really suck at it. I’m always wondering how the hell do I surrender? Am I doing it right?

As a chronically nervous person, I often find myself full of worry, full of this need to manipulate and control as if that will bring me the peace I’m yearning for.

And then I wonder what will happen if I surrender all wrong? What if I surrender and something I don’t want shows up in my life? What if life gets all mucked up because I sat back, gave up what I think is right and gulp, surrendered?

What if surrendering actually fucks my life up?

But the last couple of years have stirred a curiosity deep within me and I realize it’s time to explore the truth behind this idea deeper.

Because one thing holds true, it seems like the harder I grasp on to the things I can not control, the more suffering I seem to experience in my inner, and outer world.

And I’m so bored with my suffering.

I’m so bored with the narrative swirling around in my head. The stories, the trauma, the anxiety buried deep in my chest.

I want it to rise up and out of me so I can just be, well, me.

I want to feel in total alignment with who I believe myself to be and have the confidence to bring her to the party no matter who is around or what is happening in my life.

I’m constantly hearing, "Let go, Amanda. Let go, Amanda. For God's sake, Amanda! Bloody hell…just let go already!” It’s no longer a whisper. In fact, it’s a feverish shout as if life has both hands clasped around my ear while simultaneously tapping on my head asking if anyone is home.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” I mumble. “I’m coming. Hold your horses.”

I’m stubborn and a control freak and what is that saying? You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink.

And then I wonder, maybe I’m just not ready to give up my suffering? Maybe I’m not committed enough to being truly happy? What if, part of me, really loves my pain?

I had to find my own way to this moment.

To surrendering.

I had to wade and navigate through all the questions and the little voice that tells me all the lies of unworthiness and the self-inflected turmoil of long expired stories that keep playing over and over from deep within.

I had to find my way to letting go naturally. I had to want it that bad.

This experiment is a mix of curiosity and the profound wake up call I feel I’m having to go inward in a way I never have before.

So with much anticipation, a little nerves and a deep inhale here I go.

I’m SURRENDERING.

For the next 30 days I’m committed to this sacred act of letting go.

I’m not entirely sure what this will look like but here are a few things I do know.

When worry about money shows up, I’m going to remember that it’s always worked out. Not too mention I’m innovative and creative.

When fear of abandonment comes knocking, I’m going to tenderly love myself, hands clasped over my beating heart as I whisper to my inner child, ‘it’s ok, you are ok. I am here and I’m never leaving you.”

When anxiety taps on my shoulder I’m going to gently invite it to sit with me in silence as we close our eyes and breathe in and breathe out.

When I question my inner voice and feel like making a choice out of fear, I’m going to lovingly remind myself that I’m on the right path. That I am supported.

And when my ego kickstarts the engine I’m going to remind her that I’m driving. She’s welcome to ride along, but she does not have full control and I have no tolerance for back seat drivers.

I’m not sure where this will take me but I can assure you, it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

So does surrendering really work? We shall see.


A Path to Healing

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The path to self-growth is not linear. It is a meandering journey through mountains and valleys, and occasionally there are more lows than highs. But it is a journey ever onward, and it is our light—that same light that exists in every one of us—that guides the way, if only we allow it to shine. -Rachel Grayczyk

It feels like often it takes something big happening in my life to point out the areas that need to be addressed. The areas within me that I’ve been running from or that seem too painful to really stop and take a good look at and heal.

A breakup or divorce, losing a job, losing a friend, getting sick. I’ve experienced all of these things and what I know now is that they are all messengers. They come with profound knowledge and insight. But they also come with a lot of heavy emotion that I often like to dust under the rug. Pain, sadness, heartbreak, anger, regret, resentment, fear, abandonment, betrayal — these emotions aren’t pleasant. At times they can feel like the most painful thing in the world. Who hasn’t experienced a heartbreak we thought we’d never recover from?

But what I also know now is that THOSE are the golden nuggets. Those are the moments and experiences that gain the wisdom. Those emotions are the messages waiting to be peeled back and dove into deeper. Those nuggets are actually the path to true peace and happiness.

We are all incredibly intuitive beings and already have the answers to the questions we seek within. Who said that originally? Rumi? Buddha? Whoever it was, I fully believe it to be the truth.

Recently I developed a massive rash all over my face. To some, it’s just a rash. To me, it means something more.

It looks a lot like acne but it’s not. I know it’s not. It is hot, very inflamed and itches. And that it seemed to get inflamed when I eat certain things like coconut. And I know enough, I’m intuitive enough, to know that it means something.

This rash, to me, is a message. I know, that sounds a little woowoo for some but I really believe that our bodies are incredibly smart and so many of our ailments are messages from something deeper within. Wake up calls trying desperately to get us to address the deeper issues that are in a way, holding us back.

I know on a deeper level there are several reasons for my rash. One, I’m consuming something my body doesn’t like and I need to pay closer attention to what I eat and drink and how i feel after. Do I experience a reaction right away or is it delayed? I’ll get into this more in another blog post.

Two, there is a huge emotional component. I’ve been hiding from some things in my life that need to be addressed and my body seems to like to get me to wake up through body ailments.

The traumas of my past are finally speaking up and asking to be dealt with. All that hurt, resentment, anger, it’s been bubbling up quickly the last few months and I feel my body is asking me to look at it for real this time.

I was also dating someone for the last six months whom I adore and love. However, I knew he and I were in different places and wanted different things but fought against that inner knowing and tried to fit this square peg in a round hole.

These things combined created a toxic environment inside of me, always questioning, always frustrated, always sad or questioning, “what’s wrong with me?” This triggered the only way I would listen — a horrible skin rash on my face.

And this is why I love the body. Because it never lies to us. It’s always seeking to show us the truth, get us to listen, get us to show up for ourselves, through messages.

I believe we can heal ourselves in a multitude of ways if we just stop, get really still and listen for the answers. Listen to those little pings, those nuggets of truth, those whispers that say, “he’s not good for you, or don’t eat that, don’t take the job, don’t say yes to the thing even though it “looks” good on paper — just wait.”

I would like to point out that that’s not to say I don’t believe in taking action. We have to take action. But maybe we need to pause a bit more, give ourselves space and time before we react? At least I know I sure do.

I also believe in western medicine. I do. 100%. I thank it daily because if not for it I would be dead. I know this. But I believe too many of us use it as a bandaid. A quick fix. At times, myself included. But sometimes if not most of the time a headache simple means you are dehydrated and need more water. Sometimes it is signaling you need rest or to actually look at something you’ve been avoiding. Taking a pill is a quick and easy fix but often we are reacting with the quick fix instead of addressing the issue. What would happen if we pause and just ask ourselves what we need instead?

If we just took the time to explore more of what our body, our heart and our soul are trying to tell us, what would happen in our lives?

This is what I’ve been thinking a lot about since the last time I wrote. Writing has always been incredibly therapeutic for me. It’s been a catalyst for discovery, exploration and ultimately, what paves the path to my own growth and ultimately, my healing.

Lately I’ve been called to share where I’m at in a different way. Cancer took a toll on me physically, mentally and definitely emotionally.

The last two years have been extremely challenging in a multitude of ways for me but the amazing thing is, I’m finally at a point in my growth where I can look at challenge in my life and see the parts that are getting me to stretch beyond my comfort zone and grow.

The dance for me is and always has been to learn to balance my emotions, to not be so reactionary, to let go of all the stories I took on for years, and honestly, find my voice and figure out who the heck I am and fully embody that. Even if it means others in my life may disapprove.

Developing my tumor two years ago has been the greatest teacher so far. I think I’ll have to tell that story sometime because it was one of the most frustrating and terrifying experiences of my life. Yet, looking back it’s taught me so much. Getting a rare and confusing cancer diagnoses, the whole process of learning about that, surgery, treatment, and recovery from that has felt like one big uphill climb and I just couldn’t catch my breath. My normal disposition is to keep pushing on. To do all the things in the same way I always have. What I’m learning now is I just can’t. I’m not that person anymore. Or, maybe I never was.

I actually need a lot of downtime. I need a lot of rest and relaxation. I need quiet. I need to not over schedule myself or have very many plans throughout the week. I function better on more spontaneity and I definitely need to allow myself the space to make a decision instead of saying yes to everything out of fear of missing out like I normally do.

So, I’ve spent the last few weeks sitting with that and trying my best to get really honest with myself. I’ve been asking myself some really tough questions.

But it’s always when I feel like I’ve hit a bottom that God (ie: Universe, Source, Life) steps in to remind me of the very thing I’m not addressing and if I did, it would change everything. Rashes, breakups, anger and resentments rising to the surface, massive hormonal chaos. All huge messages right now for me.

I find myself in a place I’ve never been before. I’m excited. Almost giddy about what is to come. It feels like the calm before a storm but not a destructive storm like in the past. A tranSTORMation is what I’m calling it. A big one. One that will allow me to peel back even more layers and show up as the real me even more.

So what is next?

Trauma, whether emotional, mental or physically (usually it’s all three combined), doesn’t look the same for everyone thus healing can’t look the same for everyone either. We all have the opportunity to embark on our own healing journey. And that is exactly what I am doing.

As I said to my therapist via text the other day, “It’s time. It’s time to go deeper.”

So that is what I’m doing. I’m investing in me in a way I never have. I’m taking this whole healing thing a few steps deeper. It’s not a one size fits all plan. It’s tailored just for me. I’m looking at all areas of my life and getting very honest and I plan on sharing what I’m doing for myself to heal along the way. I plan to really show up in this space consistently and offer you an experience that may open a few doors of curiosity for you as well.

But please remember, this is MY path and it may not feel right for you. It may trigger you or cause uncomfortable feelings to arise in you. May I invite you to explore that more deeply? It’s just an invitation for you to possibly look at your life differently too. You have to go on your own exploration. Your own journey. You have to try things on, listen to those little nudges and find the courage to step forward on your own path. .

So raise your glass of organic green celery juice (that’s all I’m drinking these days) and cheers with me. Because t’s time to really heal.