The what ifs’ll kill you, right? Last night I dropped the if and the in a minute and the no. When they asked me to dance, I just did. This morning there is no what if to haunt me, just the echoes of last night’s dance and laughter. Staying Alive
The what ifs’ll kill you, right? Last night I dropped the if and the in a minute and the no. When they asked me to dance, I just did. This morning there is no what if to haunt me, just the echoes of last night’s dance and laughter. Staying Alive
I have been filled with dread, feeling as if all the things I tackled this week should somehow have protected me from having to face one more terrifying hurdle. You can imagine how the universe took that. “Um, yeah, you can take your woe is me and stuff it where the sun don’t shine.” Right, so I pushed the dread aside and faced what I’d been avoiding. And then it was done. I felt relieved, euphoric and stronger. My emotions were matched by the people around me. All this time I’d been thinking it didn’t touch them and how lucky they were, yet the minute I was done they rallied around to tell me how well I did. I realized how much more capable…
Sometimes a little bit of magic springs from nothing…this is how I delight in my girls. ThePersonYouNeedFromthePotty
I think a lot of us have at least two personas, maybe three. There is the: this is who I project to parents at the bus stop or coworkers “me.” This “me” is self-deprecating and only admits to truly egregious failures with tongue planted firmly in cheek, this “me” also never owns a triumph too proudly. End result- hopefully the image of you is so hazy they can neither assume you are a total hack nor accuse you of arrogance. There is the: This is who I want to be “me.” This is the one against which (who? whom?) I measure my success or failure. You know, the completely impossible to live up to, unattainable, unremarkable (because she’s too-perfect-to-be-believed) me. The bitch about this…
Tagged: Confidence
I was going to write a post about not having resolutions, then I was going to write a post on finding resolve in something. Then I read an article in one of the local papers. It was written by someone I worked with at the paper before I had kids. We would bump into each other in the basement gym that was open to all employees but used by few. We didn’t talk a lot, but I knew he had kids and seemed kind. He always felt familiar to me, reminding me of some sort of combination of many people I knew from my Eugene days—more laid back than most, open-minded, but with very strong opinions, smart. His articles are rarely without controversy, but very,…