Category

self care

acceptance, change, hope, letting go, manifestation, self care

releasing ritual

Let’s burn some shit and let some things go, shall we? But first, a story. Imagine you are standing in the street in front of your house. You are holding two heavy suitcases. In your left hand, the suitcase is full of wistful memories, pain over things you wish had gone differently, anger and sorrow at people who have wronged you, and regrets about your past. In your right hand, the suitcase is full of anxiety, worry, weighted expectations of how you hope things will turn out in the future, and fear that they might not go the way you plan. Feel the weight of these two states of mind. A deep desire not to repeat the mistakes of the past at war with the crushing pressure of being determined to have a better future. That shit is heavy. Now, what would it feel like if you could put those suitcases down? What if you could let go of the past, forgive yourself, and accept the things that you have been through as teachers and tools, especially the failures and fuckups? What if, instead of hauling around all your baggage of expectations for your future, you could allow things to come into your life as they arrive, and go with ease, instead of trying to force outcomes and make things fit into your life that don’t belong there? If you’re like me, when you imagine dropping that weight, you feel relief. Freedom. You feel weightless and hopeful. You feel alive…

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acceptance, self care

good as hell

I am turning 40 in less than a month. FORTY YEARS OLD! This age has a rather special way of making women feel like they are quickly approaching their Last Fuckable Day. It is the age of invisibility. The age of the middle. When our 60s start to feel closer than our 20s. And if you are single, it’s an especially vulnerable number. Turning 40 as a childless-by-choice, single woman is like stepping one foot in the grave. Meryl Streep is in the grave next to you and she’s like “Come on in, the water is warm.” Right? Isn’t that what we are supposed to believe? I’m about to turn invisible and die and my vagina is going to dry up and close down? I will literally be unfuckable! I might as well move to a farm in Japan with the other spinsters and learn how to garden and knit (seriously though Japan is like all about that Golden Girls life, they are doing it right.) We ALL think this, at least subconsciously. If like me, you have been successful in breaking your brain out of this toxic fuckboy matrix brainwashing, you may be sitting around in your Sunday kimono asking how we got here. Where did this self defeating, damaging, blatantly untrue mindfuck come from? Did we all sign some blood contract in our newborn days that we’d collectively agree that women become patently less valuable based on the number of grey hairs and wrinkles we have? I didn’t sign…

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acceptance, change, letting go, self care

trust yourself to the water

To have faith is to trust yourself to the water. When you swim you don’t grab hold of the water, because if you do you will sink and drown. Instead you relax, and float. – Alan Watts Everyone knows that caterpillars and butterflies are the same creature. The caterpillar starts out as a cute little wormy fuzzbug, squinching around the garden on her little legs, being adorable, tooling around snacking on leaves and green things. Hanging in the safety of the garden, nibbling up all the goods she can find. The caterpillar has no idea she’s ever going to be anything other than a caterpillar. The one day, she gets a shot through the heart from the universal life force, and realizes something big is about to happen. She has a job to do. A nest to build. She has an imperative to stop caterpillaring and go into hiding. She builds a chrysalis, and snuggles up inside it, and waits. The whole biological process of this is magical in itself, but the real beauty and transformation happens outside public view. For the longest time, I assumed the caterpillar had a butterfly suit all tucked up in her accordion bustle, her legs came out, she shed some stuff and unveiled some other stuff and poof: butterfly. This is not the case. I know this about how butterflies are made, and about how humans realize their own authentic potential through radical transformative change. I’ve been in my own chrysalis for over a…

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self care, sobriety

high maintenance

Hi, my name is Sinclair, and I’m high maintenance. This term is generally used in a rather misogynist way to describe a needy woman who requires a lot of care from her (typically male) partner in the form of time, money, or effort. Women who demand emotional connection and care, attention, intimacy, or other forms of human interaction are often deemed undesirable because really, who has time for all that work? My recent understanding of this condition hasn’t come from being in a partnership with anyone, but from being fully with myself, without any adulterants, no escapes, no distractions. Just me. On my own. Doing life. Since being sober for three years from 2011 – 2014, I’ve spent the better part of the last three years in an on again/off again relationship with booze. A lot of things contributed to my thinking that this time, alcohol wouldn’t do me wrong like it had so many times in the past. I had done hundreds of hours of talk therapy. I had coping mechanisms that were healthy. I had a support system that was solid. I had done multiple years of my whole bad ass life full of events and parties and travel without drinking and loved it. I had taken my self esteem and self worth from the bottom of the valley to the top of the mountain. I liked myself. I had become a person of integrity, responsibility, and reliability for myself and the people I love. I was healthy…

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self care

surrender

This post was originally titled “RESIST.” I’ve been thinking about that word a lot lately, in terms of politics, my body, my own paralytic inertia. It feels like the word of 2017 already, that somehow by claiming mass resistance, we can stop all the terrible things we are afraid of from happening. If we resist, we can still overcome and prevent and arrest the will of the powerful. We believe resistance is the only answer, fierce, vocal, physical refusal. To not normalize, allow, or accept acts of hatred, bigotry, oppression, sexism, racism, xenophobic and homophobic and transphobic hate crimes and discrimination. To resist means we believe #BLACKLIVESMATTER. It means we believe women’s rights are human rights. It means we believe no human is illegal. It means we believe in science and protecting our water and air and land. It means we don’t allow gender or genitals or biology or binary determine who we love. Love is love. It means we stand up and fight. We must resist. RESIST. It’s our battle cry. And underneath, with all of the political strife and fear going on,  in addition to that weight, I have been silently, slowly drowning. I have been unemployed for four and a half months. I have applied for scores of jobs from retail to things in my field that I am way overqualified for to dream jobs that I would destroy at, all, as of this writing, to no avail. I’ve pitched to build a dozen websites, applied at six…

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self care

compassion fatigue

It may sound silly, but as a person who has worked in nonprofit social service for quite some time, I can attest to the existence of compassion fatigue. I’m a fundraiser for a global disaster relief organization, and events happening all around the world – from hurricanes, to earthquakes, or even a bombing or explosion like those that occurred in Boston and West last week – can drastically affect the daily lives of emergency responders, volunteers, and nonprofit staff. While most people just turn off the news when it becomes too much, we live inside disasters for weeks after everyone else has moved on to the next thing. We love the work and the missions of our respective organizations. We help people, no doubt about it. We live for those special moments where we connect with a client or a donor that remind us why we do what we do. But often, we do not practice the kind of self care we should during the long aftermath of these terrible events. After a while, you start to lose the ability to react to any major event like everyone else does. You stop being able to empathize in a natural way, and you start having to quickly tuck those kinds of feelings away so that you can do your job. You can’t turn off the news, because knowing about the news is your job. You can’t get away from it. You think about it at home, when you should be sleeping. You…

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