Do the holidays make you overwhelmed too?
I can think of 10 million other places I’d rather be than a holiday party. One of them is a cave with a friendly, cuddly (probably smelly — because since when do caves have showers?) lion. Smelly, cuddly lion sounds a lot more fun than a roomful of people asking me the same question on repeat while donning ugly sweaters.
The holidays suck. Any HSP would agree with me, right?
Once you do, you’ll humbly flaunt it. Here’s how.
Hello fellow human. If you’re reading this, you’re worthy. Maybe you already know that. Or maybe you’re totally clueless and constantly questioning what it is you’re doing on this grand ole’ planet we call Earth.
I’m writing for the tired and weary and wavering as much as I’m writing for the cocky and arrogant and self-aggrandizing souls. After all, we are all striving for something similar, aren't we?
Why the break-up of a family is one of the most painful losses.
I wept on my yoga mat. Deep, heaving sobs that wouldn’t stop. The song the yoga instructor played about unraveling your ego only adding to the deluge of my tears.
I’ve wanted to be a mother for as long as I could remember.
When I was 29 I had a dream about a blonde, curly-haired girl. She was sitting at the foot of my bed, looking at me with her big crystal blue eyes. “I’m your daughter,” she said to me. I remember waking up confused. My daughter? Other than her blue eyes, she looked nothing like me.
Three years later I gave birth to a blue-eyed baby girl. It took three years for her blonde curls to grow in. In quiet moments, when she sat in the living room reading books or playing with toys, her blonde ringlets rippling around her eyes, I remembered that dream and felt a wave of comfort wash over my soul. The daughter of my dreams had become real.
My most shocking private yoga session request yet.
I have long legs.
Very long legs.
Yoga leggings fit my legs very well. Leggings are perhaps the most comfortable piece of clothing I own — but they are also the most attention-grabbing.
Over the past 15 years of teaching, I have had many eyes stare at my legs as they demo poses. I am unphased by those stares— that is until they bore through me.
Some stares stand out.
Some eyes linger a little too long.
Perhaps you know you know the linger?
The one filled with longing and lust?
Yoga stirs up all kinds of sexual energy. And for the student with lots of repressed desires— well doing a few hip openers has the potential of turning them on — a lot.
8 clearing rituals to keep your giving tank full.
Like most other empaths and HSPs, I’ve spent my whole life caring for others.
I’ve also spent my life fighting fatigue and depletion, desperate for ways to replenish my physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual energy.
I’m the oldest of four siblings and the first of 13 grandchildren. Being the oldest meant I was the go-to family and neighborhood babysitter, advice-giver, and mother hen of my friend’s circle in my early and late teens and nurturer and caretaker to everyone that crossed my path.
I’m swiping left to six-pack abs and beer slinging selfies.
I want a man who tells me he is in therapy on our first date.
I spent my 20s dating the man who was too cool to work on his childhood issues. He smoked a joint or drank a beer or tried to turn me on when memories from his past haunted his psyche. This man thought disengaging from his emotions made him super strong. He was strong, even sexy when he fought off his emotions with fleeting pleasures. But eventually his rock hard ego cracked, and instead of showing me his vulnerability, he became detached and pushed me away.
It can be heart-wrenching to witness someone is dissociating from deep pain. I desperately wanted to heal this man. The more I tried to help him, the more he pushed me away. Eventually, he left for someone who cared less about his self growth and more about the pleasures of the moment. I walked away from our relationship feeling confused, used, and even emotionally abused. I grieved the emptiness I felt during our time together and the hopes I had for him to show up as his whole self. The man of my 20s left me with a gaping hole of longing for real emotional connection.
3 ways I serve my anxiety that have saved my fearful ass — every time.
I thank my lucky stars I was born an anxious, colicky mess.
No really, I do.
If you think I’m crazy for loving my anxiety, then stop reading.
No, I mean it. Stop.
If you’re cursing your own anxious nature with made-up profanities, because the regular, run-of-the-mill curse words are used up, then read on. I got you.
5 reasons houseplants can improve your life.
“When I get older, I want a jungle in my house, mom, just like we have.” These are the sing-song words of my eight-year-old this morning as I happily spritzed the twenty-some plants that sit in our living room bay window.
“We don’t have enough of a jungle yet, kiddo,” I said, admiring the fern and spider plants that doubled in size while sitting proudly on the porch all summer.
“It makes me so happy that our plants loved being outside so much this summer,” my 8-year-old said with serious glee.
4 uncomfortably comfortable truths of highly sensitive people.
I think I became highly sensitive in my mother’s womb.
She was loud and impulsive and very uncomfortable in her own skin. She was one of those sensitive people that pretend they can handle anything. She put on a tough girl suit whenever she showed her face in public — but in those quiet moments, she was a frightened little girl hiding behind the living room chair. Being in the womb, I sensed all that — and more. As a fetus, I learned this world was an overwhelming, sometimes frightening place.
According to Dr. Elaine Aron’s research, Highly Sensitive People (HSP’s), make up 20% of the population. When you’re highly sensitive, the world is often chaotic, a jumbled maze of noise. When 80% of that world operates on a different frequency, the world suddenly becomes as loud as a death metal concert to a newborn baby. If you’re not sure if you’re highly sensitive Dr. Aron has a quick and easy online test to determine if you’re an HSP.
And why I believe in unicorns and fairies and that everything happens for a reason.
I’ve been saved by grace a million times over.
I’ve been saved by the grace of something bigger and grander than my wee human self so many times that I definitely believe in magic.
In moments of overwhelm, moments where I’ve face-palmed myself in a how the hell am I still doing this alone? kind of way, I’ve been saved by grace.
Mindfulness, meditation, yoga, and therapy master that I am, I still fall flat — often.
I think I would question myself and the meaning of life more if I didn’t have those emotional wall moments where a torrent of tears or primal screams are the only thing that save me from a nervous breakdown.
Soul Writer. Single Mama. Life ponderer. Nature Lover. Therapist. Introvert. HSP & Empath. Life is my playground and each day a blank canvas.