Be gentle. Be kind. Be tender. Be vulnerable. I breathe these in. And it’s working.
I couldn’t see it through her fury but she’d wanted me to reassure her and I had, in many acts of stubbornness, drawn lines in the sand.
I have everything I’ve ever wanted. And for this, I am oh, so thankful.
I heard once from my therapist husband that boys need to move their bodies to talk about how they feel.
I don’t know if my need to purge had to do with the faux spring that was lurking outside my door or if my ability to clean and organize hit overdrive because of the small space we call home.
I like people, I even like being around them and I really like knowing what’s going on with them but it when it comes down to the question of how do I recharge, the answer is without a doubt BY MYSELF.
Someone finally asked, finally came clean about the real talk that has been surrounding us though we didn’t know it.
The nervous hand wringing of a bride-to-be, the sickening cries of a teenage girl remind me that this life is layered beautiful and violent, heartbreaking and deeply fulfilling.
It seems I am a potty mouth. It only took the princess of potty talk to tell me so.
The therapist walked us through how to listen to hard stories from our children. She said it was easier said than done. We all agreed and laughed.