Gaining Creative Confidence with Lyme: Thoughts on how It's Changed My Life + the Incredible People I've Met Because of It

This past month or so has been something of a whirlwind, somehow managing to feel every emotion from a to z, but doing my best see it as a good thing. Yes, there are days when feeling everything can feel like too much, and it's all I can do to not crumble beneath the weight of nearly everything that comes my way. But then, then there are days where I don't feel anything at all, and there I am, begging my mind to let me take hold of something, anything, just as long as it allows for a change in emotion. In feeling. In how I view this moment right now. 

I'd Rather Not Talk About Lyme Disease: On Doing What's Best For You Right Now, Even If That Means Less Lyme Talk + More Wildflowers

Just like that, I'm curled up in the floor...

Hands grabbing at two bobby pins, missing, falling, and missing again, eventually with one in each hand I move my fingers quickly, tangling and un-tangling the two pieces of wire. 

When I stop, my hand convulses, vibrates even, sending shivers of pain and pressure through my veins. And you know what really gets me? The anger. The there-is-no-way-this-is me anger that wriggles and ties my insides in knots. 

I don't set it free, not this time, but it takes everything I've got to keep it under control. I want to scream and smash things. I want to be angry with myself as hurtful words bounce back and forth in my head. But I don't. I just sit here, hands and forearms now wrapped tightly around my chest, focusing on everything and nothing at all. 

On The Road Again: Trying to Find My Footing In The Face Of Anxiety, Self Doubt + Every Day Uncertainties

My oh my, it has been awhile hasn't it! 

I just got back from sitting in the back of the jeep, on the pacific ocean, while spooning out bite size pieces of watermelon to eat while I take some time to slow my mind down. After rattling my way back (the jeep doesn't have the best suspension), I have plopped myself on the little balcony of the place I am staying.

Just the right amount of sun hits my face as I attempt to put my thoughts into works and then onto "paper" for you. Sometimes, they flow easily and I don't have to think twice about grabbing a few here and there from the chaotic part of my mind that holds all of my thoughts, and putting them into some kind of tangible form. 

How Slowing Down Changed The Way I Plan To Move Forward, A Letter To Fear + Some General Thoughts On Life + Forgiveness

Just emerging from what feels like a self-run retreat of the mind and how best to navigate through it's rapidly changing waters.

I've been wanting to write you something for awhile now, but the words just aren't there, that and the transition into the process of slowing down took longer than I thought. Rather, I gave myself around a month to "figure things out", and now here I am, still swimming upstream and nearing the end of month two. 

But what did I really expect to change? Was I really going to reach that moment when everything would feel ok. When the anxieties faced dissipated into my ever-growing list of pursuits? Were the things that previously tied a knot in my throat and stomach going to loosen their grip and allow me to create and spring forth with ease? Most likely, no. 

Slowing Down: Why Taking a Few Steps Back Is The Only Way I Can See Myself Moving Forward

I can hear the rain dripping down the side of the house, splashing against the rough of the rocks just outside my office door, the one that joins me to the outside.

The gentle hum of cars and streaks of light dancing across my wooden table on the floor soothes me. I close my eyes (yes, while I type!) to try and soak it in just a little bit more. My mind is working against the grain, weaving through knots and unexpected curves, struggling to grip at the sense of clam that I am so desperately trying to usher in. It’s been difficult you see, to take the pressure off. To tell myself that it’s ok to dive into the pile of books that sits next to me on my futon - the pens and notebooks calling my name.

My hands shake...

Before More Than Lyme: A Brief History Of Then and Now + Why I Wouldn't Have It Any Other Way

It's around 8am and I find myself on the floor with a blanket in my lap, sipping my coffee while watching the snow melt off the trees in the backyard. The keyboard sits right in front of me, watching my every move as my eyes are fixate on anything but the task at hand. 

Now, you may be wondering, why write something if it doesn't bring you immediate joy? Why sit here and "force" yourself to dive into moments that to this day, tie a knot in your stomach and make your heart flutter and skip a beat (in the anxious kind of way). Why oh why would I want to do this to myself when I could be sipping my coffee elsewhere, mind on the bluebird skies and dog that needs walking?