brand new day

     I wrote a book, well, I wrote a second revision of my book. It's personal and in it, I expose the darkest time in my life. It is raw and vulnerable. I don't hold back talking about my shortcomings and the emotional abuse I endured. Admittedly, it is a hard read and has some difficult content and mature themes.      I was so lonely and broken during that time, and after I made it out of that relationship, I realized that I wasn't alone. And that realization was integral in my healing. I wrote this book to tell my story, but more importantly to help those who have had similar experiences; to give them a voice and hope. I also wrote it for the friends and family of those who struggle with depression and living in an abusive relationship. I hope to offer insight on what it is to be tapped in the middle of abuse.       I'm in the process of getting beta readers to critique it to get some constructive feedback so I can improve the book. I received a harsh critique the ot

Since I was 16 I have been a 00, 0, 2, 4, 6, pregnant, 10, 8, 6, pregnant, 10, 8, pregnant, 8, 6, 4, 2, pregnant, 6, 8, 10, 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 10, 8.   Those are my sizes throughout my life; my numbers.   Those were my ever-present source of shame.   Those were the numbers that took up space in my thoughts every. single. day.   Those were the numbers that dictated how I felt about myself; the numbers that were a measure of my self-worth.   Those were the numbers that had at times kept reconnecting with old friends and meeting new friends because I feared their judgment. Those were the numbers that even though I love who I am on the inside, kept me from loving myself wholly. Those were the numbers that have kept me out of the pool on hot summer days. Those were the numbers that made me so quick to volunteer to be the photographer so I wouldn't have to be in the picture. Those were the numbers that made me feel fat when I looked in the mirror -  all  of those

Lauren is my second youngest. Fifteen, that's how "young" she is, which doesn't feel very young at all.  This week she went to New York on an orchestra trip.  I dropped her off at three in the morning.  We were right on time, so I thought it was unusual that there weren't too many cars lined up yet.  But the closer I got, I saw the students lined up out the door as they waited for their bags to be checked.  Where were all the parents standing around in the cold, grumpy and impatient waiting for them to board the bus?        I looked at Lauren and asked, "Am I supposed to drop you off and let you go - just like that?  Do you want me to wait?"        She smiled and said, "No, that's okay.  It's going to be real quick. Don't worry, we'll get on the bus in time."   Okaaaaay... but I wasn't really worried about that.  It just felt so weird.  When she was in kindergarten, every single day we stood outside the door, her tiny hand i

Back when I was working from home, I had one of those days at work.  When 6:30 came around, I was beyond done.  When I finally had a chance to leave my desk I was greeted by a sink full of dirty dishes and dishwasher full of clean dishes.  The dynamic duo.  You guessed it, that was the proverbial straw.  I could hear my back cracking from the weight of it.  I called two of my kids into the kitchen and started in on a rant filled with rhetorical questions such as, "Can you guys see these dishes in the sink?" and "Do you think it's fair that I should have to unload the dishwasher, wash the dishes, load the dishes, and  cook dinner?" Thank goodness they knew that one was rhetorical because there's only one right answer to that and so help me, if they had gotten it wrong...  I want to pause here to interject that my kids are really wonderful kids.  And they're actually very helpful around the house.  We can get the house looking pretty good in less than half

I talk a lot about courage and being strong.  I love the quote by Mark Twain, "Courage is not the lack of fear.  It is acting in spite of it."  That's been my courage mantra.  Move forward in the face of fear and become something bigger than my fears.  My courage is a fierce lion when I need it to be.  And then I learned through my depression, that sometimes courage is a quiet cry.  Sometimes it's just showing up each day and barely hanging on.   There are no lions roaring inside me on those days. Today, I'm learning that courage is choosing hope; believing in something so strongly that you choose to hope even if the rest of the world is telling you there's little hope.  Actively and intentionally choosing to hope in faith, even though the fear inside is greater than the hope.  Hoping against the odds.   Sometimes I'm afraid to hope.  But I'm not sure what I'm afraid of.  Looking foolish?  Disappointment?  Making a mistake?  All of the above?  By d

 I live my life with kindness.  I am intentional about it.  I have been through my own fair share of pain and it has humbled me.  I have been loved at my absolute worst, and I think we all deserve to be loved unconditionally without judgement.  That is the imprint my struggles have left on my heart.  They have filled me with grace and empathy for others.   So if you could hear the messages that run through my head, you would be shocked at the cruelty of my words.  Because I am my own worst critic.  The messages I repeat to myself, the tapes that play in my head, I would never say such things to another human being.  I would never say these words to strangers, let alone someone I loved.  I would never say these things to someone who had been broken and wounded so deeply.  To that someone, I would tell them how loved and worthy they are.  I would fill their cup with grace, encouragement and patience.  I wouldn't dwell on their failures.  I would focus on the rise because that's w