confession: since i decided not to buy myself another pair of boots for my birthday this year, i’ve given myself permission to buy whatever i want. so far, i’ve bought myself jeans and many gifts for other people. i prefer buying presents for others than buying for myself. every purchase sparks more joy in my happy heart. i love the presents i’ve bought for others.
confession: i was in california last weekend visiting my mother, brother, pregnant sister-in-law, and 2.5 year old niece. the highlight of the weekend was running into cold prickly ocean waves with my naked niece. the scariest moment was the split second before i grabbed my niece under her armpits and hung onto her as the undertow started to take her. the funniest moment was my brother reminiscing about the time i told him i would spot him during a backbend and i let him fall. (i offered to reenact that scenario, but he passed.) the most awkward moment was the snarky comment i made to my mother that she understood was snarky but didn’t comprehend the content. the most traumatic moment i won’t share here, but i spent twenty minutes discussing the incident in therapy.
confession: this past weekend i received supportive text messages from a few beloveds who knew where i was, why i was there, and how terrified i am of my mother. thank you.
confession: blah, blah, blah, self-love. what i mean is, i get it, i’ve been hearing the sermons of self-love from self-help gurus, therapists, and well-meaning friends for decades. but what i really mean is, i’m actually starting to suck the juicy pulpy heart of the message. my self-love looks like stopping whatever i’m doing to stretch my body for long luxurious minutes. my self-love looks like staying home instead of going out on most nights. my self-love looks like extending my practice of compassionate understanding to myself. blah, blah, blah, i’m quick to love others but i’ve been slow to love myself. i’ve been a wee bit retarded in the self-love department.
confession: use of the word “retarded” offends some people. a man calling another man a “pussy” offends me. let’s all just get the f*ck over it. while we’re at it, let’s also treat each other kindly.
confession: i owe you a love letter. i’ve been writing this letter in my head for years. when i put a pen to paper, the letter becomes a book, and the book becomes something i burn. someday i will write this letter that becomes a book that i’ll send into the world instead of burning.