Category Archives: Project finding me

Stronger for it

In the more than six months since I last wrote, my life has changed yet again. Perhaps it would be news if my life weren’t changing in some way.  The flux in my life affects the big picture. I don’t do small change. It’s always big. Overwhelming. Intense. Day-to-day, I hate change. I’m a homebody by nature, I crave routine and the comfort of being surrounding for long periods of time between my own two walls. I like predictability. At least, that is how I would describe my core.

And yet, since becoming a mother I have had few moments of personal peace. The turmoil has felt endless and sometimes suffocating. Being a mother, living a responsible, productive adult life, surviving the challenges of marriage and forging my way through a demanding professional career—all of this has been the backdrop for my journey to discover myself. The journey that, for years, defined me.

But here I am. It’s 2014, and as I look ahead I have promised myself that this is the year that I try to catch a breath. I will just be well and live my day-to-day one at a time. It’s time to slow it all down and focus on my family. It’s time to take the emphasis away from me and find comfort in the chaos, instead of constantly fighting it.

In the past, the turmoil has caused ill health, and deep, difficult struggles. But I’m through that and most definitely stronger for it. Not stronger in the way that I feel like I could roar, but stronger in that I know myself better now than ever before. This feels good. Very good. And because I know myself I can face the coming year with a sense of fortitude that I couldn’t just a few years ago.

This is a good place to be. I feel good—really good. I’m content. I hope to get back to writing it all out. This place provided me with clarity when I needed it. The writing forced me to think. To understand. I miss it.



Do you hear that—that ffff sound? It’s me, blowing the dust off my blog. It’s quite thick, months worth actually.  My dashboard looks very foreign and for the life of me I can’t remember what all these controls all for, but the blog is still here and so am I.

For the last couple of weeks I’ve felt myself being pulled in this direction, a growing desire to write and feel my fingers racing across the keyboard, but even more a desire to sit, write and reflect. When I’m not writing, I’m not good at reflecting. Writing helps me focus, and manage my thoughts. By putting things into words,my mind gets organized and I understand myself better. After the last six months, I really need to spend time understanding myself better.

I’ve been on a roller coaster of emotion, albeit carefully controlled and managed emotion, but topsy turvy, full speed ahead emotion nonetheless. Life has happened in a big way, a scary way, a I want to run far into the forest screaming kind of way. But I haven’t. I’m here. Living it. Feeling it and learning from it.

My best friend recently said to me that she’s decided that the definition of being an adult is learning to live with and cope with change. She’s right, if there is anything I’ve learned in the last 15 years it is that nothing stay stagnant and as we get older and life continues to propel forward, change seems to happen more. My guess is it just feels that way because time passes like a freight train, with the weeks and months blending into a blurry landscape.

In a couple of weeks I’ll celebrate my birthday. I’m not fond of birthdays anymore because they remind me of how quickly time is passing. But just like change, birthdays are a fact of life. As I’ve grown older, I’ve taken my birthday as a cue to reflect on life, what is was over the year that has just passed and how I would like it to be in the year to come. This birthday signals my entry into the latter half of my thirties. My husband and many of my close friends have recently celebrated or a hair’s breadth from 40. FORTY. How is that even possible? I still remember celebrating my dad’s fortieth birthday. At the time, it seemed like a lifetime away for me.

And I suppose it has been a lifetime since that celebration during my expectant adolescence to the life I have now.

So far, my thirties have been tumultuous. Everything I’ve trusted and taken for granted—even, actually —my own sense of self has been wrung out, turned upside and left shaken and floundering for a sense of direction. These last few years have made me weary.

And yet, my thirties also brought the birth of my children, tremendous growth and opportunity in my career, and a variety of fulfilling and amazing life adventures.

In many ways, the cliché of finding oneself during this decade holds true for me. However, one difference is that it hasn’t exactly been about uncovering anything I didn’t already know.  I’ve always known, I just didn’t necessarily believe and trust. Often I still don’t. And that is what I’ve learned. Despite the unrest, my thirties have brought acceptance. I don’t always know myself, I frequently have trouble finding my way, I am, by nature a cavalcade of pent up emotion, and I often lose sight of perspective and that’s okay.


It was 7 years ago this month that I became pregnant with my first son. Seven years since my life was turned upside down and inside out in both good ways and bad ways. Seven years since I lost my sense of direction. Seven years that it took to wring my life inside out and come back up for air.

Today, I am settled. Happier than I have been in as long as I can remember. I am myself, and yet so very different. I love my life. I haven’t said that since before my first pregnancy, maybe even longer. I’m content. The gentle cadence that marks the rhythm of my days finally fits like a glove.

I’ve become the woman I’ve always wanted to be.

Writing it like that seems trite. But for the very few who have known and seen the depth of my struggles, they will know how tumultuous the road has been.

Today, I’m here to celebrate and send gratitude to the universe for finally showing me the way. Had I not travelled the roads that I have, I could not appreciate the beauty that comes from the journey. Nor could I revel in the simplicity of a happy, productive routine.

Because that is all this is—an ordinary life. But a happy, ordinary life that finally feels right.

Today, someone asked me what my secret is. Just a year ago, my answer would have been so different. I would have wanted to say that it’s so much more than it really is. I would have wanted to seem wise and accomplished. I was still trying to find answers in things that don’t matter.

But now I know. I know what the answer is for me, and it’s quite simple.

I sleep, A LOT. I acknowledge my triggers and truly respect them, even if I don’t like it. I put boundaries on my life and protect them as much as I can. I respect my needs. I breathe and believe.

That’s all.

The tricky part, however, is not just saying it, it’s really, really doing it. That is what made all the difference to me. There was a time when I knew these to be my needs, but I wasn’t very good at sticking to them. As soon as I gave in, and lived them for months and months I finally started to get better. It didn’t, couldn’t, happen over night. It just took time. And determination. And, frankly, surrender.

And if I start to slip, I remind myself. Breathe and believe. I reign it in and go back to basics.


On trusting our intuitive and creative selves

I’ve been taking an online course called Emerge.  The course is designed around developing the creative tools we need to help us face our seasons of change. It’s little wonder a friend recommended it to me. For two years (it’s hard to believe that I’ve been working on Project Finding Me for that long!) I’ve been going through a period of intense personal growth and change. And while I’ve certainly been moving forward, I’ve learned that ultimately there is no final destination. That said, my interest in this course came from the notion of learning to emerge from a life transition and become more fully myself. Interestingly, this is the very place I find myself now. I’m learning what it means to get out of my own way, to finally embrace everything I’ve learned and finally live the life I want to lead—a life that feels right, and comfortable and true.

So I registered. This week, we’ve been reading about and doing exercises on trusting our intuitive and creative selves. This is a huge weakness for me. I’ve been a people pleaser my entree life and as a result I’ve never learned how to trust myself, much less to feel confident following through with any sense of intuition. So these lessons have hit hard. It’s at the heart of the work I’m focused on, and  has a lot to do with improving my sense of self-confidence.

So, we’ve been encouraged to write the following lists as a way of tapping our intuitive, creative selves. I’m supposed to let my gut take over and write anything and everything that comes to mind. So here goes:

My obsessions and preoccupations:

  • Social media
  • A clean, organized house.
  • Constant professional advancement
  • Starbucks
  • Self-understanding
  • Whether there should be a third baby in our family.
  • Paper, and pictures. And putting them together into art.
  • Being good. And liked.
  • How to nurture self-confidence in my children.
  • Anything Apple.
  • Flannel sheets.
  • A hot, flickering fire.
  • Being very, very good at my job.

What I know:

  • How to plan, and build a house.
  • How to start and stoke a fire.
  • Patience is never easy, and takes constant practice.
  • It’s very hard to still the mind.
  • There isn’t enough time in the day.
  • How to make a buttery, flaky pastry.
  • How to pitch a story and get it covered by media.
  • What it’s like to lose a loved one.
  • Bi-polar affective disorder sucks.
  • I can’t stand seafood.

What I don’t know:

  • The right way to discipline my children.
  • How to cook without a recipe.
  • If writing is really my calling.
  • How to change a flat tire.
  • How to start our snowblower.
  • How to trust myself.
  • How to set a table.
  • If I’m making a difference.
  • If I’ll ever feel like I truly know myself.


On authenticity

All summer I’ve been chewing on the notion of authenticity. What it is? What does it mean to me? I took a hard long look at myself and really wondered whether I can truly call myself authentic. And, if not, did it matter very much?

My journey over the last year and a half has taken me on a lot of winding and very bumpy roads. In pursuit of some vague notion of finding myself, I uncovered some wild and ravaged terrain that I wasn’t prepared for. There were many long, hard weeks when I was certain that I might actually be lost forever, that it would be impossible to find my way. I cried, I panicked, and I avoided. There is a distinct edge to this period on my life, the amount of spiritual change has been nothing short of staggering.

And while many might think I’ve finally found my way, in fact, the only thing I’ve found is that the living is in the searching. We are never truly done. We pick up bits and pieces along the road, pieces that may seem as random as a hardened hitchhiker, and each forms another companion meant only to keep us company along the way.

This past spring I started to believe I was finally starting to see the forest for the trees. Though misguided, I felt so sure that I made some personal decisions of what and who I needed in my life. The details of those decisions are not important, but rather the reason I made them is. Given what I’ve learned, it should have been a huge flag for me. But I was so sure, it seemed incredibly clear. There was something in my life to which I believed I no longer belonged, it seemed like this part of my life no longer fit. I had spent many months learning about my triggers, sifting through the trouble spots and separating the parts so that I could finally be whole. For a while I believed that meant letting go of parts that were hard, that caused me anxiety and worry.

Along came Brené Brown,  The Gifts of Imperfection Dream Lab and her book I Thought it Was Just Me. I learned about shame, perfectionism, inadequacy and what it means to be authentic. Her work changed me. I saw myself very different than ever before. I finally understood myself.

Finally there was clarity where for so long there had been fog.

And I had a conversation with one of my closest, most dear friends. A candid, frank, open discussion about this decisions I had made. As she and I talked it out, as I explained where I was coming from, these words slipped neatly from my mouth, surprising even me.

“Maybe it’s not that I don’t fit in. Maybe it’s not that I don’t feel comfortable in this situation. Maybe it’s just that I’m not comfortable with myself.”

We grew quiet for a minute, and it wasn’t long before I said. “Oh my God, that’s it!”

With this simple wisdom came a well of self-understanding that had previously remained hidden. It had never before occurred to me that my insecurities were the direction result of self-perception. Rather, I always believed they were because of my effort to achieve of a vision of myself as expected by others.

The ground shook a little for me.

And I’ve settled into this realization for months.  The judgment has never really been about how others see me. It has never been that anyone has ever ostracized me for the person I am. It has only ever been me. 

I am not comfortable being myself. I have spent my life judging myself. I am responsible for my anxiety, my shame.

I say this not to blame myself. I say this with the deepest intention to change myself.

In I Thought it Was Just Me, Brené says “Shame is best defined as the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing we are flawed and therefore unworthy of acceptance and belonging.”

For me this is so painfully true. The person I am, the life I want to live is so very different than the life I’ve grown up believing I should be living, a life where I have it all and I am everything to everyone who needs me. I’ve believed forever that I needed to be a certain way to fit in, to be good, to be happy. And because I’ve believed it virtually forever, I became rooted— deeply fixed—to an ideal of myself that I couldn’t separate from myself. So much so that I was ready to run away from relationships where it was no longer necessary to paint that picture.

I thought I was running away from an uncomfortable situation that wasn’t right for me, but in reality I was running from a place where I really could be myself.


I’m not a yoga practitioner. To be honest, I’ve only tried it a handful of times. Though I’ve enjoyed it when I have, I haven’t been able to make it a more significant part of my life. I believe I’d love it, given my fondness for meditation, but for now, it feels like it would only add to an already exhausting list of priorities. Perhaps, you may argue, that this the very reason that I should make it a priority. It’s certainly crossed my mind.

Recently I’ve had the word savasana on my mind, it just settles and repeats itself whenever I allow myself a moment of quiet thought. It’s a full and meaningful word don’t you think? It just rolls around your mouth, requiring that you whisper it, much like the lazy slither of a snake. Ssssavassssana. 

As a yoga position, it requires you to let your whole body relax, with an awareness of your chest rising and falling with each breath. It’s very similar to what I do in meditation, which is why it’s the one yoga pose I never struggle with. For me, it fits.

For the last few weeks I’ve felt like my whole life has been one perpetual savasana. I’m busy, of course, incredibly busy at work and at home, but I feel like my summer days have been one long exhale, like I’m held in this place of deep relaxation from which I am unable to extricate myself. It’s like I’m in between.

I’m tired, but generally content. I’m leaning into my life, letting it unfold into how I feel and what I need in the moment. I’ve come through endless months of transition, and turmoil and emotional upheaval. I’ve been working so hard to find myself, to learn to cope, to pass from what was to what is with self-confidence and grace. And I finally feel like I’m passing through from dark to light. But still, in-between.

If I sit quietly, I can see the outline of who I am brighter and stronger than ever before in my life. The anxiety still rocks my core, visiting just when I get too confident, but that silhouette is growing brighter and stronger every day. I’m finding my focus by letting go more often and learning to forgive myself. By honouring who I am as mother, woman, individual and wife, instead of allowing all of the pieces to war with each other as they have from the moment my first son was born. I’m finally settling into life with all the parts, and I’m doing it by respecting the needs of each, when they need it.

But it’s constant work—and this is one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned. There is no destination, there is only learning to live with each piece as it comes, and giving myself the strategies I need to do it. Knowing this, embracing it despite it’s inherent faults and challenges, is tremendously gratifying and empowering.

And so as I sit in this in-between, as I let myself notice each breath in and each breath out, a new, but vital awareness of how all the pieces of my life turn and twist together, some parts separate but, also, always inextricably linked, emerges. It doesn’t make living it less exhausting, only more peaceful.

I’m finally learning that I really can’t do it all, but that I can do what I need to do when it is needed.

It’s why I’ve been away for a bit. I’ve been needed elsewhere, and I just gave in, knowing that this place would eventually pull me back, when I was ready, when I needed the others pieces to step aside and give me the space I needed.

Personal navigation system

navigationYou might think that acknowledging and listing your values is a simple and straightforward exercise about asking yourself what you believe is important. Indeed, it may be. But when I started to look at my value system as part of an ongoing project to uncover your personal dream code, it took on a whole new meaning, a significance beyond the purely rhetorical. I had to consider what my values really mean about me and how they matter in terms of reaching my dreams. Important stuff, heady stuff, and somewhat intimidating I’d say—particularly since I’m entirely unsure.

This is what we’ve been asked to do in this round of the Mondo Beyondo Dream Lab. I decided to propel forward on my journey by continuing the work I started in The Gifts of Imperfection Dream Lab with another session of the Dream Lab. I’ve come so far, but I’ve no doubt that I this inspiration to keep going.

This week in the Lab, we’ve been encouraged to name our values as a way to “create an important avenue for identifying your deepest dreams.” Jen and Andrea have suggested we make a commitment to share this with at least one of our friends. Since this is where I come to flesh out my thoughts and ideas and to fully embrace words as a means for creating personal clarity and connection, I’d like to share them with you.

As I move ahead and continue to dig myself inside out, I begin to sense and follow new patterns and directions. From this I can recognize several core values. Each describes a starting point from which to navigate my life.

Here they are, and what they mean to me.

Faith & Spirituality – The belief in myself and others around me. A deep understanding that by simply living my life and striving to do it well, all will fall into place. An acceptance that there is a higher power ready to guide me, and provide me with comfort when I need it most. Faith is my anchor, a place to hang my worries and hurts and find deep comfort.

Kindness – To myself and to others: my children, who test its limits everyday; my husband, who is so good at showing it and deserves it in abundance; and those around me both online and offline, who are struggling in their own way.

Providing comfort – By honouring routine, and knowing my limits. To my family with a safe home, healthy meals and warm arms to cuddle and cry in. To others, with words, and through a willingness to listen without judgment.

Confidence – To find this within myself so that I can move forward feeling secure and self-assured that I am good enough and have something meaningful to contribute. I want to be very good at something, using skill in ways that are both fulfilling and that allow me to help support my family.

Organization – Where I am ready and able to tackle the breadth of my life, and all the tasks associated with the roles that I play. I don’t want to feel tethered to chaos, I want to feel supported by stability and predictability.

What values help you guide your life and dreams? Which do you hold true and strong and that have made all the difference as a personal navigation system?

Image: ‘navigation‘ by marfis75 via a Creative Commons license.



On Sunday I felt it. The subtle creep of anxiety and the faint quickening of my heart.  It was there, hovering and looking for a crack in my recent contentment, sniffing eagerly for a place to slide in.

I was sitting on the edge of discomfort, a place I hadn’t been in many weeks. It wasn’t entirely unexpected. It had been a busy weekend, starting from the moment I left my office on Friday. I had an important personal commitment right after my workday, busy prep for a dinner party Saturday morning including a whirlwind dancing session with my mop and vacuum.  Soon after we packed the family into the car and scurried off to a birthday party that quickly filled our Saturday afternoon.

After the part we raced home, stopping for a few quick errands that would supply some key ingredients in preparation for our dinner guests. We’d been warned that Sunday morning would bring a planned power outage and thus were up, showered, and out early to join our neighbours for breakfast at a local family restaurant.

Couple what seems like everyday commitments with several sleepless nights and by the time we finally settled into a quiet Sunday afternoon I was running on empty. And I still had loads of laundry to tackle, a kitchen to unearth from the chaos of the previous night’s dinner party, a dishwasher to empty and re-load, lunches and dinner to make and Monday morning to prepare for.

But this is where the pattern stopped.

Not so long ago I would have spent hours wallowing in useless self-judgment and feelings of inadequacy because of feeling rushed, scattered and overwhelmed. When you barely have time to breathe, you can forget to give yourself a break.

Today I recognize it’s all about the triggers. My triggers.

One of the hardest things I’ve had to do since being diagnosed with depression has been learning to recognize my triggers—the things I do, choices that I make, the habits and behaviours that contribute and fuel my my anxieties and drag me to places I’d rather not go.

When I set out to conquer my demons, I expected that I would have to make difficult decisions. I didn’t think it would be easy, but I was also completely unprepared for how telling they would be and how significantly different the image I had of myself was from the person that I actually am.


I’m reclusive and crave the regular solace of quiet. I’m physically and emotionally tied to a set routine, for my children and for me.

I need to read. It’s like a meditation that calms my mind and feeds my soul.

I need to protect time  for quiet reflection, to focus entirely on my family and to enjoy and nurture my own interests.

I need to reserve the time I need to fully prepare for a busy work week so that I can tackle our schedules with calm resolve

I need to thoughtfully consider the promises I make, remembering how easy it is to over-commit, and how that leads to guilt and resentment.

I need sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

I need to forgive myself these triggers, and embrace them as my own.


I’ve lived a life ignoring the importance of personal boundaries, thinking them a weakness, rather than the key to my own vitality. It’s because of a lifelong belief that I am meant to have it all, but it also comes from a deep-held insecurity that I am not good enough.

All of them involve time: protecting time, being mindful of time, slowing down, doing less, simplifying. The poetry of it is almost intoxicating.

My whole life I’ve thought that being enough meant keeping up and doing everything. Now, FINALLY, I know that being enough means doing what is best for me. What’s more, I truly believe that if I do,  if I freely acknowledge my own limitations, that everything else will continue to slip perfectly into place.

Brené Brown, a sociologist and author once admitted that she is “a much more compassionate person because [she] is a boundaried person.” I can see how this would be, how much easier it would be to give of yourself then you give to yourself.

And so, I’m not surprised when the dark starts to whisper in my ear. I expect it when I over-extend myself and ignore the rules I’ve worked so hard to embrace.

But this time I was ready for it. In acknowledging my limitations, I feel like I’ve taken away their power. I used to cry for hours because I felt broken. I believed myself deficient, because I would never again be able to do all that I had once been able to. But I now know that I’m not broken at all.

I just haven’t been living my life the way I’m meant to live it.

Image: ‘Spark‘ by jimtsap via a Creative Commons license.

My superpower

my son gives me strengthToday in the Mondo Beyondo Dream Lab Brené Brown discussed the definition of meaningful work—meaningful work as it relates to our personal gifts and nurturing our true selves. She encouraged us to think about our gifts as superpowers and to ask ourselves the question—What is it that I think I am really good at doing?

I have to be honest, I find the concept a bit prickly, just like that wool sweater you keep hidden away in the back of your closet because when you wear it, you pull it away in discomfort. Even writing this post about it makes me squirmy. I’ve got nothing. I’m not confident enough to own my own superpower.

So I asked my husband what he thought. I needed a starting point, some inspiration. He stood thoughtfully for a few moments and came up with Tornado Woman: Everything you try to achieve gets done. He described it like a swirling windstorm of activity with me as the conductor at its centre.

When he said it, I nodded and admitted I could see it like that too. I am that person. Or rather, I was that person. The thing is, it was that very windstorm that led to my undoing. Certainly it isn’t the personal gift that has helped me rise to the occasion and nurture my true self. I used to be good at juggling a lot of balls. I gave that up months ago.

So I’m back with nothing.

But here is a theory. An honest admission.

Brené argues that just as we all have a superpower, so do we have a kryptonite and I have a hunch that mine are integrally linked. I think my superpower is offering comfort to others, for the very basic reason that I seek it so intensely myself.

This realization runs very deep. I think it reaches back to the loss my mother at such a young age. Having enjoyed the comfort of a mother’s loving arms for such a short time, I’ve spent many years searching for a replacement. I never felt this more acutely then when I faced my deepest inner turmoil this past year. But it started even before that. When I had my boys, it was my undoing. Suddenly I recognized the feeling of a loving mother’s arms, but in a cruel and wondrous twist of fate, the emotions were reversed. I understood for the first time what I had lost by offering that very thing to my boys.

In the Gifts of Imperfection, Brené argues that “if we don’t use our talents to cultivate meaningful work, we struggle. We feel disconnected and weighed down by feelings of emptiness, frustration, resentment, shame, disappointment, fear and even grief.”

I’ve lived this. I felt it in the deepest, darkest recesses of my soul. I’ve craved comfort for so long. The loving arms of one who loves me for nothing more than just being. And so I believe my superpower has become offering to others what I lost many years ago.

I believe this is true, and to be completely honest I’ve only just worked this out now. More pieces falling into place. But as perfect as this fits, I’m having trouble owning it. I need to sit with it a bit.

Have you ever thought about your own superpower? Are you willing to own it? What would it mean to you? Are you cultivating it in your life?

Image: ‘my son gives me strength‘ by Jeff Meyer via a Creative Commons license.

The Cinderella Effect

There is something extraordinary happening to me. I’ve been sitting with it for a while now, hesitant to express it for many reasons, mostly because I can’t shake the fear that once I do it will all change.  I’m calling it the cinderella effect. It’s the feeling you get when you first slip your feet into a perfectly fitting pair of shoes. What’s more, the shoes not only fit impeccably, they are actually quite comfortable.

Many months ago I expressed that I was living my life teetering on the edge of a cliff. I felt like I was going to fall, fall so far that I would no longer recognize myself. It was fuelled by a sensation of being significantly disconnected from myself, as if I was going through the motions of a life that didn’t fit. As that post rolled into many more over many months, several that were written from a deep fog of uncertainty and insecurity, the cliff somehow transformed into a wall, a wall that separated two parts of my self: the self I used to be before motherhood and the self I wanted to be. Try as I might, I couldn’t seem to bridge the gap and inhabit either life with any degree of certainty.

Much has happened since then, I’ve spent countless hours focusing on that wall. In the beginning I willed it to clear a path and show me the way, then I practically begged it, until I realized I had to accept it and forget about focusing what was beyond it.

And now it’ s happening. There is a subtle, but profound shift. If I hadn’t been paying such close attention, I’m not sure I could have noticed it.

I wrote a post early this week about Faith and Intuition. Kelly of The Miller Mix left a comment saying: You are doing mighty work woman! I was so happy to have someone acknowledge it so directly, to point it out, even to me.

It’s been happening a lot lately. This fitting together of the pieces of the puzzle. The awareness is almost physical, like my soul is snapping into place. Like I’m slipping into a perfect fitting pair of shoes. And that place is not only about living a more honest life, but it’s offering self-understanding and acceptance.

Last week I read Amy at The Never True Tales post about The Witching Years, and then Lindsey’s follow-up piece in which she helped me to realize that what I lost when I became a mother was certainty. Snap. Click. Nod. More understanding.

At the same time, I’ve been doing a lot of heavy book reading, underlining and annotating furiously. Crying and sharing passages with my husband. Snap. Click. Cry. Nod. More understanding.

And then this morning, I was driving along on my commute, listening to audio of Brené Brown from the Mondo Beyondo Winter Dream Lab. She was talking spirituality and intuition. As I listened, I started to cry, not because of sadness, but because her words were unlocking something inside me. I felt an awareness quietly slide into place, an understanding of my own faith that I had never recognized before. It was the single most important moment of this entire journey I’ve been on.

Seemingly out of nowhere I felt a deep calm come over me and I realized that what I am doing now, this mighty work, is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.

This is me. This is who I am. This digging deep, the meditation, the slowing down and living life, the writing, the inward focus. All of it. This is what I am supposed to be doing. It’s not leading me somewhere new, it’s right now. I’m there. This is it.

Does that make any sense at all? It’s so very hard to describe. It’s all coming together. It’s like my life has finally found me, and is offering a gloriously comfortable fit.

Image: ‘untitled‘ by Patricia via a Creative Commons license.