I’ll never forget commuting to the City that day. We were among the last busses into the tunnel. Traffic was normal at first, but had slowed down for some reason and I remember seeing the toll booths holding traffic after few lanes back after we got through but lost sight of it as we went underground and under the Hudson. Exiting the tunnel we went straight up to Port Authority, and, from what it seemed at the time, it was a normal day. I ran down to the subway, knowing I’d likely be a few minutes late for work but it was just a few stops on the A train to 59th and Mad. There was an announcement – the train wouldn’t stop at Fulton St. or south. That was fine, I wasn’t going south. Must be construction or a stuck train or track issue, I thought. I exited, walked the short distance between midtown skyscrapers and ducked into my office in between designer stores. My phone rang. My father asked me to be careful. Something hit the towers, a plane, must have been a small one from Teteboro or something, he wasn’t sure yet but to please stay put, and be safe. I went to the break room where there was a TV and saw the news. I asked my boss what to do. In my memories it feels as if there was no one in the office but me, but I know that’s just my brain remembering the fear and isolation we all felt. Most of the team had already arrived and a few stragglers that came from downtown of course were held and couldn’t take the subway. We were about to learn why.

Estée Lauder released everyone from their offices immediately, encouraging us to seek safety, go home if we could, and that they had heard it was best to exit the City entirely if we lived outside of it or had somewhere safe to go. We were still confused, but, safe. I think we took the stairs – I know we did a year or so later during the blackout, but I believe we did this day too. I took my huge laptop (work was life for me as a young manager with an up-and-coming career and one of the few with laptops back then) and a few things from my desk and headed out.

Cell phone service was spotty. By then I knew the first tower was hit by a commercial plane, and then had fallen. I saw that on TV just before they sent us home. Walking outside I saw the smoke billowing looking down Madison Ave, and wondered where to go. Subways were stopped. Busses weren’t running, and the streets were devoid of vehicles, save for emergency ones rushing downtown. The second tower was still standing. It was built to withstand great impacts, we were told.

I was outside when it fell. I don’t remember if I heard it, but I do remember the smell. The ash and smoke permeated the air throughout the city, and yet, I walked closer. Not to see, I don’t think, but because that was the direction of Chelsea Piers and I heard that there was a way out of the city near there. I grabbed a cheap disposable camera at a pharmacy along the way. I didn’t think to grab cheap sneakers or flip flops, and walked the entire day – into the night – in boots and heels. I kept those boots for years, afraid to throw the out despite the heels being broken, as if throwing them out I’d somehow forget.

Chelsea Piers was packed with people. Police ushered us south to South Street Seaport where they were calling for anyone who owned boats to load people up and take them across the river to New Jersey. The Seaport was overwhelmed and they opened Chelsea Piers and any other docks to any and all boats – private boats, tugs, barges, anything you could get on – and so I walked back up there. I stood next to people covered in ash. It smelled like the death you smell at Westminster Abby, but newer, fresh, still burning as if just moments before it was life. It had been.

I stood next to a woman who watched colleagues floors up jump from the towers, grieving and feeling guilty she made it out alive. I didn’t know where my friends were who worked in the City. My Aunt worked in the Pentagon at the time and I had learned it, too, had been hit. Fortunately she was late that day and made it just in time to help as a first responder (she is a P.A.) and eventually ended up on the cover of the US Medical Journal for her efforts. At the time, I didn’t know if she was alive. I just wanted to get home.

I did, eventually, make it home safely and learned most of the people I knew were fortunately safe as well. My cousin who had worked for the FBI based out of the towers, a few friends working construction in the basement, and so on. Others were not so lucky. The weeks and months ahead were a blur, returning to the city to missing persons posters plastered everywhere, hope scattered throughout mixed in with the ashes as the reality of it all set in. I got the photos developed and gathered them eventually into an album, alongside photos of the Towers from my childhood, paying homage to a City and its people. One still strikes me as particularly poignant – smoke billowing in the background, a mostly empty street, and a billboard for the upcoming release of the new Planet of the Apes that simply said, “Rule the Planet” as a helicopter flew overhead. The irony was not lost on me, and it still holds an eerie stillness for me when I see it today.

The City was different after that. Softer. Kinder. Grieving, yet resilient. We helped each other out, offered directions when needed, guidance when available, a listening ear to a stranger on the subway or train just because we knew the world needed it. We needed it. We say we’ll never forget, yet, somehow, watching the events of the world unfold today, it seems we have almost entirely.

We may not have forgotten what happened that day, or those who were lost and all those affected in so many, many ways. But what we have forgotten is love. Love thy neighbor. Help one another. Be there. Offer a helping hand, a warm smile, a comforting hug. It’s okay if you never met. You once were strangers to even your loved ones in life and they are no longer strangers because one or both of you took the time to be kind. Remember that. Reading names of those lost that day, remembering those lost to diseases after as a result, honoring the fallen – all honorable things. But we do not change the future and prevent the recurrence of history by speaking only of the past. We change the world by remembering the kindness and love that followed those tragic events, the stories that unfolded of the resilience of the human spirit, of the Earth to heal, if the City to keep moving, and of Americans to all believe in one common goal – the ability to live in freedom, with love and kindness, not hate and division, at the helm.

It would seem we have forgotten.

Today, I take a moment of silence to remember the fallen, the heroes, and the departed. Every day, I vow to take a moment to build on that in their honor, with one small act of kindness to a stranger, in honor of 9/11. We need to do more than never forget. We need to act with honor, and grow together through love and community. Imagine how different a place the world would be if we carried through that vision from 9/12/01 into every day forward. I implore you, please, please, carry that kindness forward today and every day. I am not worried you will ever forget. I am worried we have lost our way.

With love, and honor always, for all of those lost.

There’s been a lot that’s happened over the course of my life that’s changed me and shaped who I am today. The past five years were more significant than most. Losing my best friend at 18 was a turning point, for certain. But this summer more than anything is the point where I can definitively say that everything changed. All of it.

I may have moved here 8 years ago, and bought this home 4 years ago, but this summer is the first time I feel at home, in a place I truly belong. The property is flourishing because I am flourishing and I’ve built a foundation based on love and peace here that didn’t exist before. As I drifted around the pool in silence reading a book, I realized that it was something that I’ve never known before. And then it dawned on me.

The only time I’ve ever felt truly safe, is when I am alone.

In nature, or here on my property, in the woods or on the couch with my animals. As long as there are no other humans, I am safe. I’ve learned that while I am – or rather had been – always willing to share my story and my past, my experiences, my fears and my pains, and even my self-doubts and insecurities with others in the hope that it would help them see the light in themselves, that often it was met with awe and understanding, silent nods or quiet moments of shock, amazement, and more often than not, unspoken judgement. What it is not met with, however, is consistent reciprocal vulnerability and love. I don’t know what that is, or what that feels like to experience.

Let me clarify. I have absolutely amazing friends, and an inner most trusted circle of some of the best humans on the planet. They share with me, and we are at times absolutely vulnerable with each other. There’s a trust there that does provide safety and comfort, but in a way that makes me want to have shared experiences with them, and positive ones at that. Not that anyone wants to have negative or challenging experiences, but my default when things get hard or I am struggling is to shut down and only talk about the positive. I suppose it’s a big part of how I wound up with physical PTSD while completely functional from an outward perspective. The emotional hurt and pain and wounds had no where to go, so they went inward and started doing damage to my physical body instead. My mind was able to overcome (or so I thought) everything that these past five years and the people in my life had put me through, but my body broke down anyway. I didn’t realize it, but I hadn’t cried or hurt or FELT in so long that I had completely shut down, and so my body shut down for me. The only thing that wasn’t positive that I was able to feel was anger, as a way to hide the shame I felt along with it.

Why was that? That’s a trick question – which part? Why did I feel shame? I was ashamed that I made a promise to someone that I would see their children through high school, and get them on a better path and that was a promise I didn’t keep (though I did). I felt shame because the goodness I thought I saw in others time and time again was shown to me to be something that people chose not to embrace but instead turn away from for whatever reason – their own fear, pain, guilt, shame, insecurity all from their own traumas and demons I suppose. But I took that all on as my responsibility as much as I took on the responsibility of raising two minors who’s mother was riddled with substance issues and later deceased, and who’s father was alive and well (if you consider how he lives, “good” or “well”) but chose to actively abandon the responsibility of parenting. Courts were quick to give me legal guardianship and full custody as there were multiple instances in writing of the father willingly offering to abandon the children, including that any ask for child support or financial involvement would be met with him disowning them forever. I do not say this lightly, and I do have in writing these statements from this individual. Whether meant in anger or frustration at the moment, or as a real threat, he got his wish and I naively took on two children not my own, of no relation of mine, with no support, not even from their extended family (their uncle is around and never reached out to me, their aunt on their mother’s side stayed in touch, but life’s challenges from school to clothes to food to mental health breakdowns, and even inpatient therapy for one child was met as a challenge for me and me alone to face).

Life was hard. But it got harder still. Seven months almost to the day from telling two children their mother had been found deceased, I had the grave displeasure of telling my siblings the same of our father. It was 2020. The heart of the pandemic, with my siblings living overseas and unable to travel to support. My best friend helped me clean my childhood home – a massive undertaking as we were estranged from our father due to his own severe mental illness and alcoholism – a pattern I was so willing to break in my own family that I took on the burden of another family’s same illnesses in the hope that I could fix us all. But I couldn’t, and it nearly killed me, quite literally.

Earlier this year, I was stopped for a suspected DWI. I hadn’t had much to drink and light beer at that, shared with a girlfriend over 5+ hours right after dinner. The officers said my breath smelled sweet – I must have been having sweet drinks, cocktails, or similar. Anyone who knows me knows I hate sweet, especially alcohol, and that I’m not a big drinker at all either. I carry my own water bottle with electrolytes when I go out. I have a smart, calculated routine where I drink a beer, a water, would smoke a cig before I ever ordered another drink. I’ve only ever been a social smoker at most but because I also smoke very slowly, it makes this about a 1.5h routine to get through one beer. I’ve been known to bring my own beer cozy to the local bar because I would drink so slowly it would get warm long before I was even halfway through. The math didn’t add up. The officers were as confused as I was, and fortunately they released me to the ER where I learned my blood sugar nearly three hours after being stopped, was a very dangerous 67. The staff estimated that it had been lower when they stopped me. (Google “breathalyzer hypoglycemia” and this will make more sense.) Long story short, the DWI was eventually dismissed, but I was suddenly faced with very serious and unexplained health issues.

Bloodwork was inconclusive and confusing. Doctors were minimal help. My blood sugar would frequently crash – the one time I tried any alcohol since being stopped, it plummeted to 55, just shy of losing consciousness which usually occurs by 50 if not sooner. I tried eating simple carbs, and the same thing happened. Sweets – same. Fortunately for me, I prefer salty to sweet and I could still have cheese, so with the help of some friends in the medical field, a lot of research on the internet, and daily monitoring of blood sugars, blood pressure, heart rate, and more, I set about to figure out what was going on.

A mental health and substance abuse evaluation found that I met 0 of the 11 diagnostic criteria to determine alcohol or substance abuse, according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition (DSM-5), published by the American Psychiatric Association. I had no problem stopping all simple carbs, including alcohol and sweets (yes that meant bread, corn, ice cream, cookies, rolls, and any and all forms of alcohol). I joked that I could have cheese at least, because otherwise I’d have definitely wound up back in the ER for total lack of self control. I redesigned my diet for the umpteenth time in my adult life (I lost over 60 pounds in early 2021 and kept it off). But that same evaluation was the first step in offering the physical PTSD diagnosis – I had no idea that was even a thing – and I went home and cried, feeling defeated and confused.

I started yoga and meditation regularly and I cried some more. I withdrew from friends and family. I dug into research, and data collection, compiling research on myself with as many data points as possible through the use of glucose monitors, blood pressure checks, Apple Health, and anything else I could. I knew that if I fed my brain enough data, it could sort out and identify patterns and determine what to do with them and help me map a path forward much the same way that it did when I worked on projections and budgets and potential revenue and trends for clients. It didn’t fail me.

I’d eat a salad and my blood sugar would drop to the 60s and 70s. I’d eat rye crackers or beans (complex carbs) and it would stabilize. I added ancient grains and legumes to my diet and it stabilized more. From everything I’d read and learned, given enough time the body can overcome just about anything, and so I set about to keep doing what I was doing, adjusting as I needed, until I healed. I consumed massive amounts of water, electrolytes, and salts which together acted as a filtration system to flush out whatever it was that was built up in my body that was causing this reactive hypoglycemia as it is called (hypoglycemia without diabetes, without any blood sugar increase, primarily a sharp drop in response to sugars). I developed an autoimmune allergy to my 5 year old tattoo. I had a deer jump into my car on my own road. I fought a mental breakdown in my truck questioning everything, but most of all, questioning myself. And I cried some more.

I don’t keep secrets and I don’t lie. It’s just not a part of who I am and anyone who knows me will tell you as much. It hurt even more when someone I thought was a friend called me inauthentic and a liar, using fake health excuses to cover an alcohol problem and pretending my life was great when really I was a mess. The only part that former friend was right about was that I was a mess, but physically, from not allowing myself to feel ANYTHING mentally.

And despite knowing that that former friend has told others about the incident that triggered all of this, while leaving out the legitimacy of the health issues, I started to open up. I started to admit to myself and others that living with those two adolescents was abusive and destructive. That I was afraid to take on a roommate regardless of financial challenges, because I was afraid to live with anyone. I was even afraid to have friends stay over or visit and spend the night. I was jumpy. I had (for years) always had a knife on my right hip anywhere I went. Don’t ask – I don’t have a gun, yet for some reason a knife gave me some sense of security that clearly I was lacking in, well everything.

And then I looked back at my entire life this afternoon while floating around the pool and I put the book down. I never felt truly safe anywhere unless I was alone.

In childhood, my father oscillated like Jekyll and Hyde, and could be horrifically abusive emotionally and physically. As a female professional in a male-dominated field (marketing) commuting on the subway, I was sexually harassed pretty much daily. When I lost weight, worked picked up but I found out clients that would work with me because of how I looked, not ever executing my strategies or recommendations just using working with me as an excuse to always “meet over dinner” rather than in the office and while fortunately none were ever directly inappropriate, it became apparent that it was my looks and not my brain they were interested in.

Dating was a nightmare as if I had an opinion, I was too much. Talking about my past was a surefire way to get someone to run away and so, throwing my skeletons in the street to mortify people was my go-to response to intimacy. Oh, yeah? You think you can handle me? Want to hear about my fucked up trauma? My imposter syndrome? How my father worked for NASA but was also bipolar turned paranoid schizophrenic and how I, too inherited the bipolar part? (I got help in my 20s, that requires an acute level of self awareness and regulation to understand my boundaries and triggers, something that decades later is a non-issue as I am very much my authentic self and embrace who I am and know how to no longer operate in the mania in which my father lived, and eventually died.) All of that, and a side of two kids I was not related to that I willingly took on – and was abused by – was enough to scare even good-intentioned friends away, forget about a significant other. Who would sign up for that? I wasn’t even sure why I had myself, and I was the one living it.

This was the summer that changed everything.

The second half of the summer, I started inviting people over.  My cooking flourished as did my health (just check out my IG @CJMillar82!). My property blossomed and I did along with it. I reconnected with friends who called me family, and meant it, without wanting anything from me but time and love, something they were willing to also offer consistently in return and we made monthly visits a thing. I was able to have ice cream once in a while. I had a cupcake and didn’t pass out, get dizzy, or end up dangerously hypoglycemic. My soul started to heal. And so did my heart.

But I still only felt safe alone. Truly safe. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. Abuse is a strange thing. It doesn’t have to be just physical. The constant demanding, demeaning, being told you’re not doing enough, that you expect too much, that you’re too demanding, or even being told lies and spun stories that make you question your own reality and mind is another form of torture that triggered more emotional trauma from my childhood. I haven’t sat down and told anyone all of this from beginning to end, though the handful of true friends I have know these stories strung together over time, campfires, and the occasional smoked old fashioned or porch swing conversation. Few have seen me cry, crumble, or hurt. Even fewer have seen me ask for or accept help unless I am truly desperate and out of my element (such as with my tractor or hot water heater) and even then a prevailing sense of guilt and “not good enough” had me scrambling to repay them with dinner if they wouldn’t accept money even when money was tight for me and I still insisted. I felt overall undeserving of help or love it seemed. Though as I thought earlier, and thinking back again as I type this all out, I can see why.

I also realized I genuinely like alone time, but that perhaps I don’t want to be alone all the time anymore. I’ve been reading Permission to Feel by Marc Brackett, Ph.D. and struggling still to get through it, stopping frequently as I reevaluate myself and uncover more of the “why” behind who I am, and learning how to start to feel, even when it’s uncomfortable. It is often uncomfortable. I’ve always wanted to share the good experiences in life, the beauty of nature, the magic of theme parks, the thrill of a roller coaster, my favorite things that make me smile and laugh, my brightness and joy with others to help them see the light in themselves. What I didn’t realize was that I was doing so over and over and over again whether or not people wanted to grow or evolve or change, without ever allowing myself to replenish and feel for myself. Positive only, all the time. Struggles are hard, but I’ll get through them on my own, no need to bring others down. I can carry this weight, and their weight too.

This summer I put that weight down. All of it.

I put down the weight of being the sole person focused 100% on the agency that provided the bulk of my income and 0% ownership, and instead focused on what I wanted to do and what I excelled at with the intention and goal of finding additional employment before the close of 2025 and I am happy to say I have several opportunities in front of me.

I put down the weight of educating others on areas in which I knew I was more informed or experienced or educated whether that be business, community, relationships, psychology, interpersonal skills, communications, or anything else for that matter.

I put down the weight of trying to fit in everywhere – at business events, fighting to stand out to get the attention I knew I deserved but instead just clamoring among the noise. Fighting to be recognized for my skills when people would tell me I’m brilliant and amazing and if they had the money they’d hire me while wondering why the companies with the money had not (hard to when you’re self-limiting).

I put down the weight of explaining myself, my past, my trauma, and my small town’s rumors. Writing here is more than I’ve said on anything that’s happened in the past year that’s even remotely public, and it terrifies me. But I also know everything I have said here is the truth, and I have the proof to back it up, and I also now know that no one needs that proof but me. It’s my experiences alone, and no one else has to have an explanation even when they make up their own stories about me and tell others in an attempt to ruin my life.

I put down the weight of being stalked and the fear that followed that. While it’s still disconcerting, I realized that changing locks, alarming everything, and living in fear wasn’t doing anything for my health, and that if someone really wanted to hurt me, they could and would. And that words spray painted in the woods as a threat were just words. They couldn’t hurt me anymore. And as such I deleted those awful parts of abuse and hate and evil from my past. Literally. Gone. Saving only what I felt I needed, and knowing that the lessons would stay with me for times to come, knowing I learned what I needed and grew where the Universe had pushed me to grow.

And I put down the weight of being too much, the fear or guilt of being the smartest person in the room, the most perceptive, the one who notices everything to the extent that it almost seems like I can hear thoughts and read minds (maybe I can). And I embraced myself, and welcomed anyone in who wanted to share in that same level of authenticity, help me learn in all the areas I am lacking – we all have so much room to learn and grow. And open to sharing in the areas where I am strong and resilient, intelligent and outgoing. I dare hope for that challenge, compatibility, and above all else, authenticity and honesty in action and communication that brings with it the consistency that forms the soil from which safety starts to grow.

I repotted plants as much as I repotted myself, with firm roots in my home. And then today I realized.

I only truly feel truly safe when I am alone.

I’d like to change that. So I am.

Things are changing. The good days far outnumber the bad, and the bad aren’t even that bad anymore. The morning anxiety is (mostly) at bay, and things that worry me are challenges to overcome, not roadblocks that stop me in fear anymore. I’m healing inside and out, and while I am not entirely there yet – we all are works in progress, aren’t we? – I am on my way.

I have hope in ways and things I haven’t before. I am listening to music again, dancing around the house like a child at play, arms flailing, wide-eyed and grinning, laughing at myself with all the joy around me. I am feeling almost ready to emerge from my cocoon of self-welcomed exile this summer, but not quite yet.

Truth be told, I usually become a bit of a recluse in the summer. Town’s too busy with tourists for my liking, and all my friends in hospitality and business owners don’t need my business now when they’re already busy and they’ll be just as happy to see me once the weather turns and the busy season ends. I’ve reveled in this summer at home more than I can ever remember. My home is amazing, my property looks wonderful and loved, and welcoming, and I am actually enjoying it, and time here with true friends and family. I’m not quite ready to leave that just yet. Not that I’ll lever leave it, this is home, but I’m not even quite yet ready to venture out into public. I’ve limited my days and errands, spread out my work to cater to the weather instead of to others, and been able to enjoy socializing in my neighborhood more than ever.

Dog walks almost daily keeping Reese fit ahead of surgery #2. Yoga and mediation daily to help me heal, learn, and grow. Days in the pool when it’s sunny. Visits with friends and found family from out of town that have started their own tradition we plan to continue for as long as we’re able. A connection to my own soul for a change in a way that actually listens, rather than always looking first to help others regardless of the cost or damage to myself.

I have so much energy that taking a day off is hard and I have to actually remind myself to rest rather than remind myself to motivate. I look forward to working out, and to work. To meditating and growing. To reading and learning. I rarely turn on the television, even though I spend about 80% of my week alone. Some days I don’t even see any other humans if we don’t pass anyone on the road on my walks with the dogs. I couldn’t sit still so I did a 2mi walk/jog just now despite having worked out earlier and done 4mi with the dogs yesterday on top of that, and then some, and it was my best time ever. The other day I was excited that I did 3.5mi averaging under 15min per mile and today was even better! While that may not seem like anything to you, I promise you, that’s a huge deal to me!

I’ve had 4 knee surgeries, screws in both, shattered leg, shattered ankle, shattered hand, spine and vertebrae damage and hairline fractures, neck, skull, and nerve damage, and more. The fact that I can jog at all excites me in ways I can’t explain. And not just trail jog (I crossed that milestone about a year or so ago), but road jog – something I couldn’t even do without getting shin splints when I played 3 varsity sports all through high school. That’s incredible to me! I can’t wait til snowboard season, with three boards tuned up and ready to go. Opportunities to go more places – already have my season pass for Holiday Mountain, which may seem small to you, but to me it’s “home”. At just 30 min away, I can pop over for a few runs between meetings, or last minute, and they have night skiing, and will let us have dedicated snowboard racing if we can get funding for the gates (I’m working on it!).

There’s so much on the horizon! I’ve made such amazing friends, up at Plattekill, right here in town (girl, I’ve known you a YEAR now, nuts!), and up in my other mountain home, Lake Vanare and I plan on getting to see all of them this winter and snowboarding with them. I even worked on my novel again for the first time in over a year, and am making great progress!

Things financially are in a hiccup right now, but I believe that’s old things falling apart so new and better things can come together and there are several on the horizon that, when they come to fruition, will make my dreams come true. There are opportunities in front of me that are beyond my wildest dreams, and even if they don’t all or any work out, working towards them and learning from them has been an absolute blessing. I know what I want to do, I know in my soul what I am good at, what my gifts are, and how I want to share that with others. Now I need to believe in myself enough to know that others will recognize that too, and while I have no idea how, I have to trust that the Universe is going to put something or someone in my path that recognizes and believes in me and gives me the opportunity to shine. Kinda like an actor waiting for their big break, only I’m not acting, and the only time I want to be on a stage is to share my story and illuminate the way forward for others.

And that’s exactly what I plan to do. Share my light now that I am finally learning how to do so without depleting myself entirely in the process. But rather by regenerating that light as I share my story and who I am in the right ways, with the right people, the ones who appreciate it, and who appreciate me. I am spending no more time on people who do not want to move forward with me, with love.

I know. I sound all sorts of ridiculous and idealistic. Is this what living like this does? I mean, it’s pretty amazing. I’ve completely torn down every old habit from my entire fucking life. All of it. And started from scratch. I rebuilt from the very beginning. I relearned how to eat. How to drink. How to speak. How to exercise. How to harness your own energy to regenerate more. How to grow. How to love. Starting with yourself. Starting with myself. That’s what I did, and it’s been truly amazing.

So very amazing! So THIS is what joy is? This is what joy really is! How incredible! Yes, it took work. It took a lot of work, actually, and it took tearing everything down and starting over like I’ve never even lived before, but this time listening to my intuition and my soul. And what a difference it’s made. I’m still dancing around the living room, music blasting, still wide-eyed smiling. While I don’t know exactly what’s next for me when it comes to my career, I know that it will be amazing and I trust in that and will keep working hard to get there. I‘Ve been talking to someone online for a month now (ack shit really!) and we’ve talked on the phone a few times, and I am really looking forward to meeting him. He’s been kind and patient, a good listener without over communicating (note to self: over communication malfunction on my end still needs work 😂). I’ve been the holdup and he’s been understanding of that and that’s also helped me want to consider emerging from my summer hideaway, at least for a bit. He doesn’t seem to mind that I know everyone around here so no matter where we go, we’re likely to run into someone I know who hasn’t seen me in months and get questioned. He said he’s okay with that, which is awesome because usually I live a semi-public life (I work in marketing and use my social media to support businesses I work with and am friends with).

That’s a pretty tall order – all of that – and so far, so good, so I am excited. I am excited to meet someone new, in a non-work related manner, and enjoy someone else’s company other than the select few friends I hold close vs. the massive network of people I am friendly with (yes there’s a tremendous difference). I am learning how to respect my extroverted introverted-ness and what that really means. I am, by nature, totally fine alone and prefer and actually need quiet time and space where I feel completely comfortable to let my thoughts rattle around and settle down and sort themselves out and that’s something I’d neglected for too long, always putting others first feeling obligated to be there for everyone without ever really being there for myself. I know the difference now, but also after so long here on my mountain mostly alone, I am just about ready to come back out and play. Laugh. Enjoy. In all the ways I’ve learned joy really is and what it really means these days. That girl you knew before? She doesn’t exist anymore. I’ve turned into a butterfly. Just give me a few more weeks…or months…and then I’ll reemerge and be ready to fly 🦋 💕

That’s what I’m doing right now. I don’t know if it’s normal or not, or just makes me weird, but I’ve always done it. Had conversations with myself. They’re not out loud, they’re in my head but I can hear the thoughts clear as if they were spoken much the same way I often hear thoughts of others, as if they were spoken in that person’s native voice. I realize this probably makes me sound crazy. I’ve been called as much for years, my whole life actually. But I’ve also realized that I am never going to heal from this if I don’t drop my guard, let go of the constant strive towards perfection, disallowing any mistakes from myself or more aptly, living from a place of fear of getting in trouble.

Ever since I was a child, I was terrified of getting in trouble. I’m not a rule-breaker by nature, and the more I’ve matured, the more it seems my outward confidence has grown but that little girl inside of me is more terrified than ever of getting in trouble. I suppose that makes so much of what I’m dealing with outright ironic these days, but also in humor there is healing.

I’ve withdrawn a lot. For a lot of reasons. But mostly because I’ve let go of the energy and need to explain myself over and over and over again. The constant justifying of who I am, verifying what I am worth, clarifying what I mean, and being so careful to not step on anyone’s toes and not get in trouble for anything, that I had frozen in place.

There are many things in this world that are frightening. Most of all, the state of stagnation and the absence of growth nearly as much as the fear of change. I’ve been stuck somewhere between those that I’ve dug myself a hole and buried over the pain of the past in the forced positivity of looking forward and being a beacon of hope to everyone around me that I didn’t realize I had turned into the lighthouse getting beat on by all of those waves.

I needed this. But I’ve been struggling too, a lot, and it comes in waves. Sometimes it’s right there like you expect it like high tide at the beach in summer. Other times it hits from behind out of nowhere like a cross-wave diagonal to shore. It doesn’t look big at all but it knocks you down and takes the wind right out of your sails and next thing you know you’re coming up behind the break with a mouthful of water spewing and coughing like the devil himself just tried to down you. Maybe he did. Or maybe it was the shock of the wave. And the realization that all this time you had been trying to drown yourself but you’re learning that it doesn’t have to be that way. And so you stand up, spit out the rest of the salt water from your lungs and catch the next wave to shore. You’ve got a life to go after.

A friend told me to go outside and look at the moon tonight. It’s huge, and bright, and pink, and rising. He didn’t know if I would be able to see it from where I lived, but I live at 2300’ elevation at the near highest point on my mountain, and assured him if I couldn’t yet, I would soon and so I went outside and was treated to absolutely spectacular views.

Through the trees and the mountain’s haze after the sudden rain shower that blew through a short while ago – and had been blowing through on and off all day, and all month to be honest – a pink glow hovered between the branches and the horizon just barely rising above the mountain’s treeline in the distance. I put on boots (everything is wet here these days) and decided to take the garbage out and go for a stroll. I thought about grabbing the dogs, but Reese is still recovering from surgery and we’re working on repairing the other leg with the intention of bypassing the need for a second one, and so I opted to leave them napping in the house since she already did her workout for rehab earlier this morning.

As I went past the neighbors, the moon still was low over the high mountain, not yet into view above their pond and so I continued, thinking that a little further down the backside of my road, I’d get to the other neighbor’s vast open field that looks across towards the valley. I hadn’t made it much farther than the first neighbors, however, when I heard something off in the woods. A snort and a scuffle. Deer. Fortunately. Perhaps leaving the dogs and walking quietly at dusk wasn’t the best idea, so I made some noise and reconsidered going the additional quarter of a mile along the woods and creek there, as I know our resident bear must be somewhere nearby this time of year. All the wild berries are starting to burst, and they’re a favorite of his.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to go much further. There was a break in the trees. A small one, but just enough to frame the pink moon in all her splendor, the sun’s dusky glow still echoing across the clouds with pastel light that complimented the nearly full moon’s pink illumination. I took a breath. I took a photo. I sighed.

How blessed am I to be here?

As I turned around, smiling, walking back to my home on the hill, I noticed the lightning bugs finally emerging from their winter hideaways. Surely they were happy for the respite from the rain and slightly warmer temperatures this evening even though the air was still heavy with humidity. They flickered, mostly in the dense wet grass, but a few in the trees across the way, signaling that summer, while maybe not fully here thanks to weather disruptions, was still on her way. Mother Nature has a way of making herself known even in life’s subtleties such as the soft glow of dusk, the snort of an unseen deer in the forest, fireflies in the grass, and the bellowing of bullfrogs along the overfull swales.

As I turned around, the earthy hues of the sunset danced just along the far horizon, offering a view rivaling that of the moon. Hanging peach and lavender swaths of sky between the v of trees headed down the other side of the road to the valley, the sun just out of sight, it reminded me that even when you are out of sight, your light can still shine. Sometimes, the most powerful messages are the ones we say in silence, painted in Nature, breathed into the Earth around us, ignited by the Sun, and reflected by the Moon.

Life looks different these days. Softer. More beautiful. More life. More love. Abundance resounds, from the lush grasses growing in fields and forests on my own property in places that never have before, to flower beds bearing fruit – fresh wild strawberries that until just the other day, have never so much as flowered. And not just a few, plentiful ones, ripe and ruby red, sweet like nature’s candy. The yard is overflowing with flowers getting ready to turn into wild blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries. The bear will be by to try some, I am sure, though all the fencing has been rehung, and then some, with updated electric chargers to keep the horses in, and the deer and bear, out.

The fox kits from last fall should be on their own now. The coyotes have been quiet. Bartholomule is happy with his new friend, and the others are relaxing peacefully munching grass and hay, happy for a break from the biting flies that have also been abundant this year. I’m riding again. Not that I ever really stopped, per se, but I rarely did so. It seemed I never had or made the time, but I do now and I remember why it means so much to me, and why it is something I always come back to when I need to find myself. Duke is getting older and grey. Cole is as sweet as ever. And the kid is fitting in nicely, with a promise of future that we look forward to, together.

I am sitting on my porch swing as I write this, waiting for the moon to make her appearance over my tree-line, without venturing down the road again. I’ve worked from this swing in the past, but haven’t this year due to all the rain and the bugs, and it’s lovely to be sitting here, relaxing, thinking, reconnecting, breathing. Simply being.

Astrid is mad she’s not allowed out, but we all know she’ll go out gallivanting under the nearly full moon, and not come in until well after midnight. Possibly with something in her mouth. Definitely wanting to burrow under the covers and snuggle, and even more definitely disrupting everyone’s sleep in the process, most of all mine. And I’ll allow her to do it and smile at her because that’s what she does and she makes me smile. She makes all of us smile. But tonight she’s inside, and me and the dogs will be in shortly as well, too, ready for bed and another day of abundance tomorrow.

It’s appropriate that I am sitting under the Strawberry Moon, alongside the wild strawberries that I just found around my front flowerbeds yesterday and have been snacking on since then. The moon will have lifted herself up over the rest of the trees shortly, and we will have a clear view from my bedroom and its beautiful front-facing windows, which I will leave open for both the fresh night air and to bask in the strawberry moonlight.

I am sure I will be out here tomorrow. Perhaps I’ll find a reason to stay up until the Strawberry Moon peaks. And perhaps not. But either way, tomorrow is supposed to be clear day and night, offering abundant sunshine and moonlight throughout and I know I will be here. This is home.

I rip. I curse. I shred. I go hard or not at all. I am everything or I’m your nothing and then get TF outta the way. I drive a truck (diesel, straight piped, obviously). I drive a tractor. I drive a Kia. I have a quiver of Never Summers and rebuilt knees. I have broken bones and a broken body stitched and stapled and screwed back together and I don’t care. It doesn’t slow me down for a minute.

You can die slowly or you can die living and I plan to live every. single. moment.

All of them.

Every single one.

Keep up. I dare you. I’d love that actually, but at 48 on my near half century of this life on this planet and I’ll tell you, I’m amazed. I’m in the best shape of my life. Riding more and faster and harder than I did even before my knee surgeries, even before my very first one at 16. And maybe I’m not running slalom and GS and Super G on skis these days, but I’m still #standingsideways hard carving on some of the best boards made in America, fast and real and loving every second.

Maybe I’ve never made it out west (yet). Maybe I didn’t grow up in a ski family. Maybe I’ve always been doing this on my own, from skis to snowboards to life and everything else in between.

But before you go talking shit about me, my life, and how I live, have you ever stopped to think about it? That maybe I like it? Because you know what? I fucking love it! I am in my glory these days and every day. It’s Feb 14th and 90% of my entirety of work for the month is done. I get to play in the snow almost daily. Winter is better than ever – and has always been my favorite season.

Would I like someone to share this with? Oh hell yeah! But will I settle for someone just because it’s company? Oh fuck no. Not fragile like a flower. But also not fragile like a bomb. I’m explosive. Know the difference. Get on board or get out of my way.

I am me. Wholly, completely, unapologetically me. 💯. Take it or leave it, makes no difference to me. I don’t change who I am for anyone but me, and only then it’s to become better, because I learned better, and now I will do better. Like racing tonight. Let’s get it! Let’s fucking GO!

Who’s in? I don’t need a partner in crime, or someone to do this with me. I’ll do it myself anyway. I’ve always been the only true winter lover in my entire family and I’m good with that. What are you waiting for? I wait for no one. I forge my own path. Actually everyone in my family does and that’s part of what makes us all so amazing in our own unique ways. Hell yeah. I’d love you to join me. Please do. I’m right here.

Just remember, I’m not all rough and tumble tomboy. I’m still sugar and spice. Adjust your crown, and put on those sparkly stilettos and break out that “Legaly Blonde” circa early 2000s pink feather purse and speak at a wedding (really…tomorrow). I have blue sparkly nails that match my snowboard and dyed my hair to match too (I did)! And I have a collection of cowboy boots and converse to rival my collection of stilettos and I’ll walk miles as easily in any of those as I’ll ride miles down a mountain on any of my boards.

I can’t wait to meet you. Or find you. Or come find me. In the meantime, I’ll be right here taking runs down the mountain texting my girls and my boys with all the smiles and all the love in the world. My life wants for nothing, my Valentine’s Day is always full. I guess that’s part of why I’m perpetually single – I am already so happy and so blessed. Join me if you have the courage to add to it, and grow, and truly LIVE while we go on and change the whole god damned world!

I love you. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Beauty and intelligence comes in many forms, and all shapes and sizes  and colors and ages of people. It’s when we stop to interpret them for the body they are in that we begin to see them through the filter of our own experiences and lose sight of the soul within.

The past few months have been transformative. I’ve met, connected, and reconnected with people form all walks of life and learned so much. A few incredible teenagers brought out the best in me by helping me see that I am valued. They’ve included me in their important life events, called out to me to join them on the chairlift, introduced me to even younger children who look up to them, and it all makes me smile. Like the Lion King, it’s all part of the circle of life.

There are still the “others,” but, it would seem like the Pulitzer Prize-winning halftime lyricist pointed out in a message lost on most, the “others” are not the same as us. And not in the obvious ways you may think – because in many ways they may look like us, or be similar to us, but at their core there is a difference. Not their color or looks or how they choose to spend their time. Remove the filter of your own judgement for a moment. What do you see? It’s not that they look different, it’s that their soul is different. Or, rather, disconnected.

When a soul and a body are disconnected, it’s a horrible thing to experience. It’s horrible to live through it because in the moment, in that time when you are disconnected, your trauma has taken over you and you can’t even feel the way you should feel emotions. It’s like you’re almost devoid of them. But worse, your ego keeps making poor choices out of desperation from disconnection from your soul. But it’s a catch 22. The worse choices you make, the worse your situation becomes and so the cycle perpetuates. It takes a strong person to break that cycle, and a strong support system around them.

Sometimes that support comes in the form of a wake up call – a near miss, a too-close for-comfort call, a rock bottom or nightmare-come-true kind of feeling or happening. Sometimes that comes with the help of others around you who scream at you and shake you, build guardrails and barriers to keep you safe, and even step back and get you help when what you need is more than they can offer.

Sometimes, though, that cycle is broken in the darkness of a cold winter night, clouds covering the soon-to-be full moon. Or perhaps it finds you on the mountain chasing snowflakes and carving runs. Or maybe, around the fire pit out back laughing with friends. Or, even when someone you barely know calls out to you and says hey! Great to see you! Let’s hang for a while. Or I’m honored you’re using my photo in your blog (thank you! 💙).

It’s in those moments that life feels a little less alone. Not lonely – at least not for me anyway. I need my alone time as much as I need time with friends but for the most part I am a loner and prefer to travel alone, driving myself to / from wherever I am going, the only passengers in my car are my 3 snowboards. It’s freedom, and it’s good and I love it. And I love company too. And sharing life with people I am starting to see without a filter. Through to their soul. Letting go of the ones that wrap themselves in filters disconnected from their souls. Letting them judge me without it ever orbiting my circle because I know their judgement is about them, they’re just too afraid to look in the mirror and say it to their face.

And its welcoming with open arms friends new and old, family who reminded me today, “blood’s thicker than water,” and friends who are family who also always have my back, even when they don’t know what’s going on in my head.

I’ll get there. One day at a time. I’ll share more and open up about where I am in the present mindset, and stop trying to pre-write the future from reruns of my past on binge in my brain. For now? Right now I’m happy to just sit here and soak it all in. Unfiltered.

It’s funny, I have a bunch of draft posts in here ranging from partially to mostly written, and I haven’t bothered to share them. I know the truth and reality, and the people closest to me also know. I’d venture a guess anyone involved also knows the truth even if they are not truthful people by nurture or nature but that’s not any of my business and certainly not my problem or responsibility. And as such, I’ve spent the start of 2025 living up to every single one of my commitments to myself.

Some may say that’s easier said than done, but it’s really just a matter of personal responsibility, integrity, and being as honest to yourself as you claim to be (and in that case then therefore are) to everyone else. In that context, it’s easy because it’s just who you are, and that is exactly who I am.

I’ve been reveling in all the amazing things that keep happening to me, from working just a handful of hours for the same pay, to new opportunities around almost every corner, networking challenges becoming successes, past burdens turning into freedoms, and a circle of colleagues and friends that I am proud to call family.

And family. There’s that, isn’t there…and I have to say the second half of 2024 and onwards has been the best I have ever had with mine! Time with my brother and his fiancée and my two nephews filled with smiles and laughs. Time with my sister and her now-husband in person all the way from New Zealand. A better relationship with my mother. And for the first time in over a decade, me and my siblings together on the mainland, and together for the first time since Nov 2019 in Hawaii which feels like a lifetime ago. In many ways, it was.

Today I took myself out on a date. It was amazing! I saw Mufasa a few weeks ago with one of my best friends at the local (and very nice) Hurleyville Performing Arts Center and it was incredible, but just a few minutes in I realized it was cinematography that would absolutely be worth seeing in IMAX 3D (we saw it in regular 2D). We planned on going next weekend when we all go to iFly because the IMAX in Palisades is the largest in the region but when I went to book tickets yesterday it became apparent that this week was the last week Mufasa was in IMAX, and the only place it was still in IMAX 3D was in Albany at 2:30 Wed and Thurs, and Thurs I had a networking event at 5. No way I could do both in the same day.

My New Year’s resolution to myself was to stop working 60h work weeks for free, so I spent some time reviewing budgets and spreadsheets, client info, and so on and let the team know that I’d be working the hours I was paid, plus several additional hours to support the agency together at events and networking. However, since I have always said I hate sales, and I’ve spent several years pushing a rather large boulder uphill without help to close almost no sales (we had a few that for operational reasons couldn’t continue as long as we all had hoped), I needed to change. This was the year to stop playing Indiana Jones dodging boulders that I had pushed partway uphill to find that there was no where to go but to get burnt out. I stopped. Between that and a few other spectacular life changes, suddenly I had time to be ME again!

The me that loves to hike, ride horses, snowboard, explore new towns and areas and restaurants with friends who also like the outdoors and adventures. No tie downs to worry about who was okay or not, how was everyone else doing mentally / financially / emotionally. It was time to take care of me.

On a whim, I bought a ticket to see Mufasa in IMAX 3D over 2h away at 2:30 in the afternoon in the middle of the week. And I went. I made great coffee, a Yeti of tea, and filled a thermos of tea for the drive home and yes, they all stayed hot. I am still drinking the tea from the thermos I made at 11AM in my Yeti right now at 8pm! I drove backroads and highways and blasted music and called no one and sang loudly (and often I’m sure badly) in the car. I had amazing tacos and a spicy margarita. I got a second and poured it into a to-go cup and snuck it into the theater. I ordered popcorn and put on my 3D glasses as I sank into my perfect seat smack in the middle of the IMAX theater that had just a few other people there and watched the previews.

GUYS THEY ARE MAKING A LIVE ACTION + CGI HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON SPECIFICALLY FOR IMAX 3D! I got so excited I took a photo of the screen and texted my friends. (No flash, I am not that asshole! Also there were only two other people in there at that point for the previews.)

And then Mufasa started. I watched in wonder from the opening credits til the very end even though I had already seen it and knew the plot. The 4k clarity was unreal. The 3D made it literally come off the screen. And the IMAX experience was absolutely worth it! I was not just watching, I was experiencing all of it in away that was awe-inspiring but also actually inspirational in and of itself. It made me want to go out and do more stuff that most people would call crazy. Stuff like driving 2h each way by myself for some tacos and a movie.

Hiking in 20º on the Shawangunk Ridge on a windy day for over 2h. Going out with the dogs for 3 miles in 15º. Going new places. Meeting new people. Trying new things.

You see, life IS what you make of it. If you’re feeling stuck, MOVE! If you’re feeling down, DO something. If you’re feeling bored, CREATE something. Read. Learn. Experience. LIVE!

I didn’t realize just how much I hadn’t been living and instead had just been supporting others and helping them see what was inside them. Like Rafiki says to Mufasa, you are so good at seeing in others that which you cannot see in yourself and realized I have been guilty for a very long time of the very same thing.

It’s okay, I see it now. And it feels amazing to be back to life and really living! Who’s riding dragons with me next? Let’s go!

It’s amazing the things I know. Notice. Understand. I’m getting better at sitting with discomfort and managing my anxiety and expectations with ownership and without avoidance even when the latter feels easier. I know it is not. At least not in the long run. Choosing to face your weaknesses and uncomfortable parts of yourself only makes you stronger, but you must first learn to sit with things in silence. And then after silence comes the understanding. Then the acceptance, the ability to see a new path, a better way, and how to make a positive difference. In yourself and those around you.

Then you begin to notice. The little things. The small changes. The behavior patterns emerge. The minutiae tells a story but you can only hear it if there is silence in your head and peace in your heart.

Intonations in text messages even though they’re just words on a screen. Mannerisms in speech, body language, and in all that’s left unsaid. The silences, comfortable and un. The spaces in between. And the nothings that have been said, but haven’t needed to be spoken.

There is so much beauty in silence. Leaving you to wonder if the nothing that’s been said is even about you.

I sat up last night around a campfire looking up at a starlit sky through the trees and felt the winds change. They always do this time of year – change is coming – but on the night preceding the new moon, they danced among the leaves and some, still green with summer’s sun, drifted down from the highest treetops and floated above us down to the fire. The night told of magic in the softness of the fire crackling, the laughter of friends, the air amongst the trees, and the branches gently swaying tempting the wind chimes to sing if even just so slightly. And I thought, “how lucky am I?”

Luck doesn’t have all that much to do with it, really. Hard work, self work, playtime and downtime all do though. And I’ve had a lot of the first two, and a ton of the second, and just a touch of the last but it’s bringing things all together.

Tonight over dinner I laughed with my companion that between the two of us, we probably knew more about people than they did about themselves. We said it was lucky we were good people and didn’t use it against them, but many others would. Truth is luck has nothing to do with that, either and everything to do with who we are.

I have said this a million times – I am who I say I am – because it’s true. It was then, it is now, and it will still be true years from now because I have nothing to hide. I also don’t share other people’s business but I also won’t hide the truth if someone asks it of me and it’s a situation in which I am involved, and still then I will only speak my truth for it’s the only one I know for certain. Don’t ask me for other people’s answers. Ask them yourself. Just because they may be comfortable enough to share with me, does not give me permission to share their story with others. If it’s my story you want, look no further than to simply ask me and I’ll tell you. Even the battle scars and, even more importantly, the ones I gave to myself.

It’s my freedom. My truth. It’s also magic. Knowing and noticing are the path to finding your own magic. It can start with a belief, but you have to act on that belief and believe in yourself and take the first step otherwise you’ll never get anywhere.

Hope is a powerful thing. Hope is not a strategy.

– Tim Tebow (really!)

I heard Tim Tebow speak at the tourism conference I was at this past week and of all the things he said (he really impressed me, he’s a good guy and a great speaker with a huge heart), that quote is what stuck with me the most. It applies to everything. Business. Personal life. Goals. Sports. Everything. Hope is not a strategy. Hope is a good thing to have, and it is incredibly powerful. But without action, you will never get anywhere.

If you want something different, you have to first DO something differently, and then become something different otherwise you will just keep ending up right back where you started.

That wasn’t a Tim quote (neither was the first one). I could say it’s one of mine but really becoming something different is a variation of many things I’ve heard said before. You can’t expect anything in life to be different – relationships, family, work, or most importantly your views of yourself – if you keep doing the same thing. Saying you’ll change or saying you’ll do better or be better doesn’t matter until you actually start taking the steps to actually do the things to make it a reality. Words can cut like a knife, or build hope, but just like hope isn’t a strategy, words are not an action.

I looked up at the new moon sky tonight with nothing but stars and a few trees and, as I turned to go inside and climb into bed I saw a single, huge shooting star. It wasn’t like any regular shooting star that streaks across the sky in a brief flash and fades. No, this one was different than any I’ve seen before (and I saw more than 12 in an hour one night earlier this summer!). It was larger than most, and it sparkled with little fragments of light breaking off like a sparkler lit up in a far-away galaxy being waved across the night, and it shared its light with the sky around it. Magic.

I woke up smiling this morning, without a hint of anxiety or even the suggestion of stress and I laughed out loud. I scrolled through Instagram, seeing what friends were up to, nodded at some memes, laughed at some cats, and giggled still at others. Then I got up and fed the animals, made myself a fruit & protein shake, a large iced coffee, and started to brew a fresh pot to start chilling in the fridge for tomorrow and Monday. I let Shelly sleep in – she’s been under a lot of stress lately and puts a lot of pressure on herself while wrestling with imposter syndrome and I know how draining that can be. I deal with that too. But not this morning.

Having the house quiet with nothing but the breeze enticing the wind chimes into a quiet song while the fans hum and the dogs nap nearby as the cats lounge inside and out, is bliss. Getting a jump on the week with a healthy start, and a fresh pot of coffee cooling down so it can chill means the next few mornings will be easier too. Sometimes it’s the simple things that help keep my mania at bay, and let me see that I actually do set myself up for success in so many ways. And I’m learning to be kinder to myself too.

I put away the laundry this morning after letting it sit, clean in the bin in my bedroom for three days and that was lovely also. To be able to let something go, not have to do everything all the time completely before I am allowed even a moment to rest, is huge for me. I’ve been working on that this week. I worked on it as I moved hay and back-bladed some of the tractor ruts in the field, and smiled at the grass growing in the pastures reminding me that hard work does pay off. But you have to stop to enjoy it too. I watered the garden. My roses are in full bloom and I have two rose bushes now – a deep pink one and a brighter pink one and they are next to each other and they make me smile. Stopping to smell the roses is literally a thing I do on the way in or out of my front door lately and I am better for it. Sometimes you just have to slow down, and learn how to say enough, and take a deep breath and let it all go and be happy.

I am so happy today, it’s beautiful. Not a frantic manic inspired running around happy. Content. Still. At peace. It’s something I need to do more of so I plan on sitting in the hammock reading a book for a little while until I get too warm and decide to get in the pool for a bit. I may get in the hot tub after (or before – depending on how hot it is out as the hot tub is turned down to 96º but that’s still a bit much in a heat wave). Later I’ll go meet a friend I haven’t seen since last fall up at a local bar about 30min north that I don’t get to go to nearly enough (don’t worry, I only drink a few PBRs and lots of water and drink very very slowly…I’ve been known to bring my own Yeti to bars so I can drink as slowly as I like without my beer getting warm. I hate warm beer. I digress.).

Tomorrow I’ll meet a dear friend who is always there for me, at Do Good Spirits, another place I don’t go to nearly enough that is owned by another friend and has a lovely atmosphere. And then if the Yankees game is still on (and they’ve remembered how to play baseball) I’ll head over to my usual spot for Sunday sports and be home before 9, coffee already made for the week ahead.

I’d say tomorrow is a new day, but it’s today. It’s already here. And I’m smiling.