Tag Archives: Life

Strength is the new Beautiful

cracks

I snapped this picture three years ago when hiking up Machu Picchu. It’s just like me to stoop down and notice ferns peaking up out of weathered, ancient stones that are stomped on by thousands of tourists. The baby ferns growing between the cracks get stepped on daily by hundreds of people clad in hiking boots as they race up to the top to see ‘the vista’ everyone comes to Machu Picchu for. Yet the ferns continue to grow, like a gift of forgiveness to those who crush them. Cracks are beautiful. And people who show their cracks to the world are a blessing for those of us who try to hide our own.

I shot pictures of wild orchids peaking out from dead tree branches too. I’m obsessed with fragile beauty. It is vulnerable. It is hopeful. It is a living example of gentle strength that I hope to embody.

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An orchid blooming from a downed tree branch, is surviving—and blooming—against staggering odds. It encourages me to try to bloom where I am right now, no matter the circumstances, no matter how many times I have failed in the past, no matter the risks. To continue to bloom for a short, trying period, is an expression of gratitude for this tenuous life. It humbles me to see it. After failure or rejection, I tend to bury myself in my covers for days. I want to hide from the world. But to hide is a form of shame or fear. I can’t be seen if I hide. I can’t be rejected either. I may be safe, but I can not let you see me. There is no way you can see my flaws, or feel my love, or understand my fears, or even read my writing for that matter. Nor can I experience you, if I hide where you can’t find me.

So even though I’d rather not emerge in an authentic way—I’d rather not take the risk of failure or rejection—I will remember what nature teaches me. Every attempt to grow, to bloom, to show up, to keep going, is an act of faith, and love, and gratitude. If I can accept my cracks, and my fragile life exactly as it is right now, beautiful things may begin to emerge beneath the surface—that were likely there within me all along.

Keep going friends. And please encourage those who are striving despite the odds. Love those who show up in your life who are vulnerable and who reveal their imperfections. They are the ones who will accept you, as you are, and give your heart wings.

Love & Light,

Laura xo

 

 

 

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Yoga + Meditation + Gratitude = Longer, Healthier Life.

Pulse

 

Here is my latest cover article for Pulse Magazine. I write for a lot of magazines, so why am I posting this one on my blog? Because it is for a traditional hospital publication. It reiterates what I’ve known for a long time. There is now NO doubt that yoga, meditation and a gratitude practice lengthens life, improves health, boosts mental outlook, and reduces pain and the intensity of disease. I love when I get the chance to write, research, and interview experts on topics I’m passionate about. I began doing yoga and meditating more than 10 years ago due to a bad back, a nasty divorce, and the stress of rearing a baby and a young son solo. The journey has helped me battle auto-immune disease and dark moments. I have taken multiple yoga trainings and now teach, while also free-lance writing. My life is more positive. I feel joy on the daily. I am more patient and more present with my boys. And I see how much yoga has helped my yoga students who are in pain from cancer or arthritis or injuries.

Now physicians and scientists in the West confirm what I have felt and seen through many studies conducted at Harvard, the Centers for Disease Control, UCLA and elsewhere. Some studies showed how meditation and a gratitude practice helped to reduce cancer tumors and/ or the intensity of pain and side-effects from cancer treatments such as chemo or radiation. Other studies showed an increase in memory from meditation. Others showed how meditation, especially, increased the capacity for joy and reduced depression.

 

One day I envision an America where therapeutic yoga and meditation classes will be a standard benefit offered within corporations and covered by medical insurance policies. Lowering stress means reducing toxic cortisol and glucagon hormones within the body. It is widely accepted within western medicine that cancer grows within acidic environments. It is also known that a flush in cortisol, (that happens when individuals are stressed or anxious or angry) causes the gut to not thoroughly digest vitamins and nutrients correctly. This flush of cortisol also tightens connective tissue which reduces the flow of our lymph system and makes us more vulnerable to the flu. Stress also increases inflammation, ramps up blood pressure, creates tension headaches, muscle spasms and even increases the chance of stroke and heart beat irregularity. Taking preventative care of ourselves ought to be a primary concern—and not just for the privileged and wealthy in this country. I’m glad to know that yoga and meditation is now taught at reduced rates in hospitals (where I also teach) and community centers, as yoga studios can charge high rates. Most yoga studios, however, will also offer low-fee community classes once a week, which I highly encourage people to try.

Here’s to a low stress and blessed week.

Namaste ~

Laura

 

Living w Autoimmune: 3rd Day of Challenge a Wipe Out

Still under the weather today, the 4th day of the challenge…I’m grumpy from no coffee, tired, fingers tingling. My older son has a date tonight (super cute) and it’s just me and my younger. My saturday night date gets to help mommy with chopping veggies as my fingers are still not working totally the way I want them to. Getting better though. Plan is to eat an omelet…then popcorn with our movie. No candy. No soda. Still healthy, right? I know. Sort of. Definitely not a home-cooked meal, but I need rest. I have to get completely better by Sunday to see my next Tennessee husband perform, Justin Timberlake. jk sort of! My older son bought us tickets for my birthday. So NO MORE Flare-ups! And going to JT is worth not eating a home-cooked meal for. 🙂

Hope to be back on track Monday. If any of you deal with managing flare ups and trying to cook every night, send me a note.

Have a beautiful weekend,
Laura xo

Day 2 of 21 Day Challenge to Cook 4 Kids: OY! Not Looking Good…

Video from last night. I’m beginning Day Three of this 21 day fat loss challenge (a cook for my children every night challenge) with a more positive mindset, especially on International Women’s Day. I will alter this challenge to fit my needs, empowering myself to focus on time management, goals, sanity. If it takes three to 3.5 hours to shop, chop, prepare, cook, clean-up, then it is NOT worth it to prepare home-cooked meals every night…not for single moms who also work within their careers and strive to have any sort of personal life or balance. What I seek is 30 minutes to sit down with my boys at the family table every night. But if we’re going in different directions all the time, I do not need to be working so hard…This challenge, just on day 3, is confirming this for me. More later.

Peace, love and support—especially to those special women and mothers across America who do far too much every day. Give back to yourself today and always. Lets make that commitment.

Love,

Laura

21 Day Home-Cooked Meal Challenge!

I signed up for a 21 Day Challenge. It’s officially a fat reducing challenge, but for me, it’s a home-cooked meal challenge, as it requires participants to cook each meal for 21 days. As a full-time single mom of two, that’s a tall order. We have activities. I teach yoga classes. Plus, I am also a writer.  During the day, I’m writing/editing novels, as well as articles for magazines and corporations I freelance for. The extra shopping and prep time and cook time and clean-up time, that goes with home-cooked meals, has always been hard for me. I’ve been a full-time single mom for ten years. I have a 10-year-old and a 17-year-old and everyone says life will get easier as the boys age. By that, my friends think life will become more balanced. But honestly, it’s not really that way, we just evolve into different types of activities and demands, etc. As I struggle to keep up with my identity, my sanity, my health, my dreams, picking up ready-made meals from Trader Joe’s or wherever, has been my time-saver. But so many people have been telling me for YEARS that the best way to be a good mom is to prepare home-cooked meals. We’ll see! Here are two videos from my first day, that did not go so well! LOL! Lord. We’ll see how tomorrow goes!

I was so hopeful in the morning…but then the day got a little crazy, and I didn’t get yoga in or, more importantly, my writing.

 

I’m trying to keep up my faith!

Is it this hard for any of you???

L. xo

Embracing the Divine Feminine within a #metoo & Hookup World

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Can we as women embrace the divine feminine within, while also demand to be taken seriously as an intellectual equal of strength and character? Most of my female friends will say, “Hell yes.” But I’m not so sure that my male friends will agree (amongst each other). A woman in a bikini who looks sexy, is also a person who may write articles for the New York Times, or creates legal briefs, or who rocks a baby to sleep. She is a person of infinite depth and has found a way to embrace her health, vitality and beauty, without negating her intellect, strength, and roles within family and society. It’s a delicate balancing act. Just because we want to be taken seriously, doesn’t mean we have to hide our beauty. It is not our fault that desire creates a beast within some men. That’s like saying a girl deserved to be raped if she wore a short skirt. Yet, somehow, I still feel that it is our duty, as women, not to feed that beast and to refrain from behavior that spurs affairs and/or abuse.

 

I’ve been thinking a lot about this. It is wonderful to feel sexy, healthy, vital, energetic—at any age. I also know that whenever I post a picture in a sexy yoga pose, the men who ‘like’ the picture aren’t necessarily reading the Rumi quote or noting my yoga class schedule below it. Right? Women feed into the objectification that is rampant. We do. But that doesn’t mean we deserve to be lied to, cheated on, manipulated, or God forbid, drugged and date-raped. There’s a huge leap in the male thinking brain from: she’s hot, to: I can, and am entitled, to use her as a physical toy and throw her away after. A good friend of mine told me yesterday that her first date after her divorce resulted in being rooffied. She woke up in her ‘date’s bed, not remembering a thing. She had only had one glass of wine at the restaurant. LORD. She’s in her fifties. This sort of thing happened a lot during my college years and my graduate school years in New York. I heard stories from friends often and I once ended up in the hospital after someone roofied me. Luckily, I wasn’t raped, but I passed out, hit my head in a restaurant bathroom and the cops were called.

I am taking a big sigh as I write this.

Have we not evolved?

I want my nieces to grow up into strong, self-confident, independent women who unabashedly embrace their sense of beauty and vitality. Just because many men want to hook up and treat beautiful women like objects, doesn’t mean we have to hide and cover up either. We just need to be smart, stay alert, and not drink during first dates or put ourselves knowingly into harms way. (See my interview  with Pat Allen, relationship expert, best-selling author of Getting to I DO and expert on Millionaire Matchmaker)

 

Pat, who was actually my therapist during my ex-husband’s affair, has been saying for years, what DeVon Franklin re-iterates in his new book The Truth About Men. That is, that men are not wired for monogamy. They have a lust problem. Not all men cheat, clearly, but all wrestle with desire, even when in love with their wives. Their lust struggle doesn’t go away. DeVon refers to male lust as “the Dog.” And in his book, lust is about power, as much as it is about female conquest. If a man can commit to his profession full-heartedly, he can commit to a woman and family, he explains. Society and the lack of good male or father figure role models, makes is easy for successful men, especially, to not look in the mirror and to continue to indulge the dog, even within committed relationships. An interesting side-note, men who cheat, according to DeVon, are those who were abandoned by fathers or had poor relationships with fathers. Women who cheat, however, typically have put up with too much abuse or neglect and leave a relationship. Men who cheat, are often not in bad relationships at all. Hmmm…So how, as women, do we navigate that one or the fear that it instills when we begin a new relationship?

 

Well, I don’t have an answer. I do know that really good men cheat and feel horrible about it after. But it breaks my heart when women, who have been cheated on, or lied to, ghosted, or made to feel lesser than by a man in their life, take it personally, by thinking they somehow aren’t worthy, deserving, or sexy, etc. And some men, justifying their bad treatment of women, can say horrible things. I know. I heard them, to the point that I believed that I wasn’t sexy or beautiful during my divorce. Yoga and my yoga trainings saved me and helped me to embrace my physicality as well as my spirituality and get back into my writing. I shifted gears and stopped worrying about what was said or done. I’ve since let that shit go. I don’t need to prove anything, but I do want to feel good for myself and remain vital, healthy, so I can be a strong single mom for my boys.

I adore Reese Witherspoon, my fellow southerner, who is strong, and beautiful and calls into question just what a powerful businesswoman is supposed to look like. When I was in college I heard a lot folks saying I was the character from Legally Blond. I covered the legal beat at the Red and Black newspaper at the University of Georgia. I was in a sorority, had long blond hair, wore make up, yet still wrote essays and interviewed supreme court judges for public radio and slept on the streets with the homeless during campaigns to effect change. Why not? What rules in society exist that stipulates that in order to be strong, intelligent and successful as a woman, you can’t wear sundresses, or make up? Or be sexy, and spiritual for that matter. Honestly.

This is what I want to say to my adorable nieces, and to my boys who I pray grow into men of character: respect the light within each person you encounter. If you treat others with dignity—and that means yourself as well—you will hopefully, never be in a situation that makes you feel less then, entitled to take advantage, or used. Communicate honestly, girls, by asking the man in your life what his intentions are. Don’t assume he’s committed. Don’t drink too much and put yourself into sticky situations where others can gain control. And, boys, if you see or hear something, like a fraternity brother bragging about date raping, or drugging a girl, stand up, like a man with character, and turn him in or challenge him. Think of your beautiful cousins and the daughters you may have one day. And don’t drink too much, as that can entitle the dog to bark, as DeVon says.

Friends, chime in. What are your thoughts?

Love & Light,
Laura x

A Hard Life to Love

The Webster’s Dictionary definition for Hard is: “Not easily yielding to pressure.”

Hmmm. I think I want to be hard. Harder then ever before. I won’t yield to what you think I am. I won’t yield to what you think I can or can’t be—or can or can’t achieve. I won’t believe what you have said about me. I won’t act small so you can feel better. I won’t brag or boast either, on my way to living my best life. My best life is not your best life. I don’t claim to know what yours is. Just as I don’t claim to know you, like you claim to know and define me. That is your problem. My problem is taking baby steps and not running toward my purpose. My problem is tackling more than most do every day of my life without any support. But that is my problem, not yours. You are overly supported and demand and expect more. You are not grateful for all the support you get, yet judge and blame others easily. But I love you anyway. I don’t ask you to listen. I don’t ask you to understand or God forbid approve. I don’t ask you to help me. I don’t accept your rules or your small viewpoint of life or what it, or mine, should look like.

But what I know is that only when I fail, and prove your assessment of me right, is it OK. Only when I fail and get defeated do you love me, accept me and therefore, accept yourself. Because it was always about you anyway, wasn’t it? And your actions and choices show your inability to love yourself. Not my ability to be lovable or loving.

So I am free now. I am free to just do what I need to do to live my best life because you will never be happy for me, no matter what I do, or don’t do—no matter what I ‘achieve’ or don’t achieve. So, I am harder now than ever. I do not bend or stumble or stall or break under the pressure of trying to be loved by you—or anyone else like you, who is blinded by addictions, and refusing to do any real soul work. I will not feel bad about myself because you choose not to show your love, or ever visit, or give attention or be kind. It isn’t worth it. And it reflects your armor, your defensiveness—not my soul, not my worth. How could a shy little girl, who couldn’t talk until she was eleven, deserve a belt buckle whipping? Or her favorite tortoise shell hair brush beaten over and over on her back? How could a tiny child deserve welts, or bruises? No one does.

No. You are never to be seen again. Nor do you define my essence. I am stronger than you ever will be. I can look into the mirror and smile for how strong, how hard I have become.

I will love you in a way you never understood. I will just love you, accept you for exactly who you are, no matter what, and no matter what you did—or didn’t do—or said, or don’t say. My love is unconditional and just is. My heart is open, forgiving, yet strong and very, very hard now. I am independent. You have never been. I will follow my purpose without asking anyone else to sacrifice, as you did to achieve yours. And if you don’t like my strength, remember that you almost killed me. So I had a choice to make didn’t I?

It is OK now in my heart. I know you didn’t mean the horrible words, the vicious drunken attacks. You used to be my excuse for being broken. You were my excuse for thinking I was unlovable and allowing others in who were like you. But I am free now. None of it was personal. You are broken. And I am miraculously filled with light from a loving Source who taught me that I chose this life to survive it, to grow from it, to love insanely despite it, and to embrace my art because of it. So, I laugh more. I need less. I ironically trust more. And I am very far away from you.

You only love conditionally and if you are needed. So you break people so they will be broken enough not to leave you, so they will need you.

The secret is, I have never needed you. I have been on my own since I was born. And that is the truth. I have never needed your kind of love. I don’t need abuse. I don’t need criticism. I don’t need anger or violence. I don’t need you. I don’t need your manipulation, control or approval. I don’t need the self-loathing, or bravado, or self-pity, or guilt trips, from a self, self self viewpoint that surrounds you like a force field. But I am no longer affected by you or what you did. It wasn’t about me. It was always, always about you. I have only seen you once in 10 years and I will never see you again. Ever. Not until we leave Earth. That is the choice of my loving, yet hard heart, that is protective and sets boundaries.

But I will always love you. And you may not understand that kind of love until you cross over. But then you will. And you will see. And you will feel my love for you. It is there. It always was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Accountability

zenfulpanda

Eastern spiritual traditions teach that our outer world reflects our inner world. For some, that sounds crazy. I have friends from my previous profession as a journalist who get downright angry with that yogic theory and lament: “Did I manifest that drunk driver who crashed into me?” Or: “Did that starving child cause the war and famine?” Or: “Are you really going to tell a person with stage 4 cancer that she’s responsible for her disease because of her shitty thinking?!”

 

Many Western intellectuals call ‘bullshit’ on Buddhist, Taoist, or Hindi philosophies that yogis espouse, things like: ‘Thoughts Become Things’ or ‘Aham Brahmasmi’, a Hindi mantra used in meditation meaning: “I am the Universe.”

 

But somewhere between the chaos theory, (or fuck it, everything is random)—and Aham Brahmasmi—a belief that Universal light lives within each soul, linking us all and allowing us to channel this force to manifest our dharma, our purpose—is a humbling and oft-neglected puzzle piece. That puzzle piece is a powerful dose of accountability.

 

To be accountable means I must look at past mistakes, or even past tragedies, and see where my part was in its occurrence. Where am I partially to blame? And what can I learn from these experiences? Did I place myself in a dangerous situation? Did I risk my health by making bad choices? Did I hold grudges and react? Accountability is powerful. It is a must in order to manifest any New Year’s resolutions, goals or intentions.

 

It can be hard to do. I suggest tackling an accountability list armed with self-compassion, an open heart and the willingness to let go and forgive. But just ‘letting go’ of the past isn’t enough if I haven’t learned the lessons. For instance, if I want to knock out a publishing editor who asked to read one of my novels, it isn’t enough to scan the manuscript once and send it on, like I did with a previous novel that didn’t get accepted. I must get it beta read again. I must add the authentic details that a respected agent suggested. I must take my time and sit at my desk and write every day. I must choke back fear and insecurities by meditating every day, so that I don’t succumb to distractions that get in the way of working productively.

 

To me, being accountable has a lot to do with how well I take care of myself. Ask yourself this: are you in your own way? Do you sabotage achieving your goals due to bad habits? Then be accountable for those bad habits. Look in the mirror.

 

For instance, if I eat too many sugary foods, drink too much caffeine and forget to do pranayama (deep breathing) and meditate, I enter a space of fear, erratic thinking and succumb to distractions that keep me from editing or writing.

 

What is keeping you from your best self? Experts now have conclusive evidence that meditation quiets fear and reactive thinking and allows us to link neural pathways to the parts of the brain that are more compassionate, calm, responsive, verses living within our over-active reactive non-stop thinking side of our brain. (I’m para-phrasing here, but go read This is Your Brain On Meditation in Psychology Today, if you are interested!) We also know that too much sugar and caffeine wires the brain’s fight or flight response, which is not grounded in reality, and creates a vibration of negativity. This vibration may actually bring into your life more people or experiences who mirror that. Plus, if you drink too much alcohol, don’t exercise, don’t meditate and eat too many carby, fatty foods, you can become more prone to depression. If depression runs in your family, like it does in mine, do EVERYTHING you can to thwart its dark return into your life. (This Harvard Gazette article about meditation reducing depression is eye-opening.)

 

Just food for thought. This new years, I refuse to set resolutions. Instead, each day I get  to hold myself accountable in a compassionate way. If I didn’t write or edit, why not? If I didn’t meditate or do a 20 minute yoga flow at home, why not? If I became reactionary or fearful or thought negative thoughts, what was going on within my diet or my life to create that imbalance? If I didn’t listen well to my boys or friends, why?

 

What I know for sure, is that what I focus on expands. And if I want more love, joy, kindness, forgiveness, compassion, abundance—I need to help others by being more loving, joyful, grateful, compassionate, forgiving and supportive of their efforts to become abundant. It can be as simple as smiling at someone or sending them a silent blessing. If I want to live within a more beautiful world, I need to create beauty in my life by noticing, appreciating and enjoying what I already have that is beautiful. If I can be grateful every day, even for the hard lessons, my life is already abundant. If I am living my dharma—enjoying what I do for a living—I have accomplished more than I could possibly imagine. From this vibration, anything else is possible.

 

Today, I am mindful of where I slipped into fear and out of my routine this holiday season. I am grateful for the lessons. I am grateful for my breath, my yoga, my beautiful characters and stories I write about, and the fact that each day I get a choice on what I focus on. This is a blessing. No matter what else is happening in my life. My happiness is a choice. It doesn’t depend on whether someone shows up, or a goal is accomplished. It is a choice of learning in each moment and being grateful. I’m learning in my journey to be humbled by my mistakes and grateful for the lessons and that I am a compassionate, forgiving friend to myself and others. The light within me, is within you. We must all cultivate the best vibration, by being accountable for our habits—what we eat, what we think, what we drink, what we focus on—so that we can shift away from what doesn’t serve, to what helps us feel our own light, and see it in each other.

Have a Beautiful New Years week.

With so much love & light,

Laura

Kitty CRAZY!

GreeceJames

This picture is what started it all. Last summer, my James fell in love with a calico cat who visited us in our barn in Greece during my yoga & writers retreat. She chased grasshoppers and shooed away spiders and bees and purred and snuggled and was just adorable. But what I failed to realize, is that she was a cat, not a calico kitten. So…seeing that my son was in need of more unconditional love around the house after our move, I adopted a calico kitten that looks much like our beloved Greek cat. A yoga student, who had seen this picture, called me and proclaimed it was destiny, we had to have this look-a-like kitten. While my boys were with their dad this August, I adopted this little one. But the stars weren’t exactly aligned with this one. Just my luck. Who knew something so cute could end up more like the bunny from hell in Monty Python?!

kitty

Don’t let her cuteness fool you. Sweet, adorable Tabitha, my crazed arch-nemesis! Notice her collar? She’s had this for three weeks due to an infected paw that won’t heal. This hyper diaper high energy gal climbs window screens, tearing them and re-infecting her paw, even after two shots of antibiotics, one round of pills and three different lotion medications. She’s managed to find ways to rip mattresses open from underneath, climbing up inside them and clawing at the coils. A master of untangling woven baskets, and a natural at flying directly up to the top of our refrigerator, only to fly out across our kitchen, as if by hang-glider, landing anywhere: on a lit stove burner, countertops with bowls of prepared food, you name it, she lands on it. Yup, she’s certifiable. And it’s not like she doesn’t have toys. So many, my den resembles a pet shop. But she prefers ‘other’ ways to get her energy out. Like tackling and scratching my ankles the moment I walk into my house—biting my calves deeply as I try to shake her off. In rare sleepy moments where she resembles past kittens of mine who like to snuggle, if I make the mistake of picking her up, she often bites my cheek or chin, so deeply, a few of my students wondered if I had had surgery for skin cancer. I’m not kidding.

For the love of my son, I mentally tell myself: “it’s only a flesh wound.” My youngest adores her. Tabitha sleeps in his bunk bed and even when she scratches or bites him, James still loves her and reminds everyone that she doesn’t mean it, it’s just instinctual. Well, I grew up with cats and I know for a fact that not all kittens are like this. But I just nod to him and wonder what I did to adopt a crazed animal like this who injects stress and frustration and high frequency energy into my house. During the day when I write, I lock myself into my room, not allowing her in, and lock all the bedroom doors and bathroom door so she can’t reek havoc.

Just when I’ve had it and am considering giving this expensive kitten away (four visits to the vet already for her damn paw!) James crept up behind me last week, put him arms around my waist and said: “Thank you SO much for Tabitha! She’s the best gift I’ve ever received. I just love her.”

Geez, well I can’t give the devil cat away now, can I? So, what can I do? Every time I scoop her poop or swat her away from our dinner table, after she’s thrust a dirty paw into my meal, I bite my lip and swallow down the strong urge to pick this little urchin up and throw her into the next door neighbor’s yard with a doberman pincher. Lets just pray that I make it sanely to next year, when the Vet insists that she’ll finally “chill out.”

Sigh. What I do for my children.

What’s Driving You?

driving youAt any given moment, a mother is somewhere in America close to her breaking point. And I imagine that she’s smiling, like I am, in this picture taken last week. Can you see it? Look closely. Behind the smile, somewhere in the eyes, can’t you almost feel the tightness in my chest, the held breath, the swirling thoughts that I’m trying to manage and keep at bay. I was behind the wheel, getting ready to take a kiddo to school, when I snapped the picture. Why did I do this? Because it dawned on me that I no longer knew what was driving me or where I was going mentally that day. As I was getting into the car, un-showered, with my teeth not brushed, my hair not washed, that morning, I had hundreds of thoughts swirling in my mind and none of them had to do with taking care of myself AT ALL. And that’s the life of a single parent, especially the full-time single parent. Not one ball can drop. No sick days allowed. And there’s no family to call nearby to help. And the guilt that comes from me striving to follow my dream to get published, when my kids are in need, bubbles up like ancient frozen methane gas rising to the surface.

But what’s life without dreams? And as much as I love these boys, and I do, I have to still carve out space for me to exist separately. My writing is what centers me and motivates me and has ever since I was 18 and writing for The Red & Black newspaper at UGA.  It’s just hard to juggle all the demands and carve out space for my writing… so typically hygiene, self care and a personal life, is what gets sacrificed. But I think it’s worth it. And in the end, I keep telling myself that it will show my boys that a mom is more than a servant, driver, cook, maid, tutor for her kids. A mom is also a woman who has dreams and aspirations that are just as important as their father’s. I just wish that I could manage to squeak in more balance between the parenting needs, writing time, yoga teaching, to add in a little personal life. But all in due time.

Last week I received great news, insanely welcomed news: a few publishers are interested in my 3rd novel! I am meeting with them in New York in mid December when they will review chapters of my novel for five hours on three different days and then decide if they want to work with me. I can hardly believe it! For months I have been sending agents pitches every week and began to reach out directly to publishers too and … it’s working. 😉

So I’m racing to figure it all out. If their dad can’t fly back, I will likely leave the boys solo for five days to fend for themselves, asking a good friend and neighbor to pop in every now and then. My 16-year-old will be in charge and I’ll just pray that the house is in tact and our kitten still alive when I return!

It’s dawning on me that maybe, just maybe, it’s time for them to do more. I see my friends who let their kids bike and walk to school every day solo and wonder why I never let my youngest do this. Some have their kids make their own breakfasts and lunches and then do their own laundry. We are a single parent household, yet, I hardly ever ask my kids to even take out the trash. I do too much.  Maybe I’m trying to overcompensate for their dad leaving. But in the end, maybe the kids will benefit more from the value of pitching in, helping out. I asked my oldest to take the trash out this week. SCORE! My youngest is making his own breakfast, too. Hip Hip for little victories! Maybe now, I’ll shower and brush my teeth in the mornings before heading out, lol!

The morning of that picture I was experiencing confusing brain drain (see article here) before my day had really begun. Scientists call brain drain the syndrome of over-working brains from multi-tasking non-stop to the point that it becomes hard to make simple decisions. I had stayed up late the night before, after teaching yoga classes, cooking & cleaning up from dinner, trying to wash our kitten’s infected paw (that’s insane! you should see the scratches on my legs!) then filling out applications for financial aid for my son’s symphony trip to Spain, and answering questions from my other son’s therapist. I couldn’t sleep. Yes, I had meditated, but life was too lifey. In the morning, instead of showering and brushing my teeth, I had prepared breakfast, made a lunch box, and dumped out kitty litter and signed parental slips for something or another, while slipping into an energy of fear and lack of gratitude. I suddenly forgot something major, but didn’t know what it was.

It’s time to get more help around the house. I can’t keep up with it all. Shouldn’t I let my nine year old do his own breakfast and lunch box and dump kitty litter for me? I bought the cat for him, right?

The morning of that picture, I had raced through my calendar and a mental list of parental duties/worries I needed to perform, that seemed like they’d over-take my life. Orchestra meeting, check. Soccer dues, check. Dad note regarding birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, check check check. Yoga classes scheduled or subbed, check. Therapist note about my youngest, check. Teacher meeting note, check. PSAT nagging for oldest, check. New York flight and hotel for writer conference, check…can I actually GO??? Easter trip to visit colleges, oh shit. Summer symphony trip shit shit shit.

It’s so easy to get over-whelmed and since my ex and I don’t really talk, I end up managing it all solo, and in my mind, I have discussions with my universal guides about what I should and shouldn’t do until I just drop and feel like I need to wave a white flag or give up teaching or writing. But giving up means giving up a part of myself. I now understand why my mom insisted on working as a social worker while raising four children nearly solo, since my father was away most of the time. If she gave up working in a field she was passionate about, and had worked so hard to achieve, she’d be giving up a part of her soul, her identity.

It’s worth fighting for. It’s just not worth getting sick for. My health and sanity need to be a priority too. So, for now, I’m asking my boys to do more. OH! I signed up for health insurance and dental, as I’ve been three/four years without. I know. I know. … it was just too expensive, but I’m biting the bullet. And, I asked my ex-mother-in-law to fly in for a weekend so I can take time off this month. I asked my boy’s dad to fly in when I go to New York. Baby steps, right? It’s a journey of self discovery. I have to ask to receive. I have to believe that I’m worth it, in order to strive to take better care of myself. Balance requires effort and vulnerability and the willingness to receive help. I love to do for others, I’m a giver. But I need to allow others to give from time to time. I’m learning, slowly. A sense of humor is necessary! 🙂

Have a blessed week!

Laura x