A few days ago, I bought one ticket for myself to a concert.  I feel proud that I’m not missing out on something I enjoy because I don’t have a man in my life.  I refuse to put my life on hold because I’m single. 

​I want to enjoy my life and meet my own needs.  I have a rich friend life, and I don’t do everything alone. But one of the joys of being single is that I get to do what I want.  For example, I am certain the concert I’m going to is one that zero of my friends are interested in attending, so I’m going solo.

Mostly, I don’t mind being alone. I like listening to music I like in my own car, and I like watching what I want on TV, and when I don’t have my kids, I can be gone for hours alone running or going for a walk.  I’m pretty good about filling my life with activities that bring me joy.  Eventually, I would like to find someone, but lately I’ve been asking myself why?  Why do I want someone, and what do I want.

Just because I’ve kissed a few toads, I don’t think all men are the same.  I know there are good men in the world.  I just need to be clear about what I want.  I do not want to be in a relationship just because the world seems to be telling me I need to be in one. I always need to make up my own mind about things.

We are surrounded by images of happy couples on TV, and almost every movie ends with two people falling in love.  There are dating sites for farmers, old people and probably there’s one for adults who play with Legos.   I stopped buying certain magazines because they were filled with articles about how to get a man, keep a man or have better one night stands.

I need to give myself some time to think.  Right now, more than anything, I miss having someone to share the more mundane, non-exciting parts of life with like being able to tell someone about when my cat jumped up to the top shelf of my closet and knocked all my sweaters off or maybe talk about some weird article I read.  When I meet with my friends, I don’t want to talk about my cat.  I want to talk about “important” things.

​For now, I’m going to keep my cat stories to myself.  I’m going to keep reading up on things that sound interesting to me.  In a few weeks, I’m going to a concert alone.  I’m also going to give myself some time to think about what I actually want. Dearest readers, I hope you also give some serious thought to what it is that YOU actually want.  May we feel deserving of what we want, and may we be brave enough to dream big and reach toward something great.

​To be fair, every man that I’ve dated or had romantic encounters with had something good that drew me in.  None of them were purely bad.  For example, one guy, the worst one actually, had one of my favorite qualities.  After work, he came home and asked me to read my poems to him, and then he cooked dinner for me and served me a plate.
 
That particular guy who I’ll call Tattooed Guy was tall and handsome, and I adored his deep, open laugh; he was a compulsive liar.  In so many ways in my life, I’m leading myself into uncomfortable situations for personal growth to grow into a stronger version of myself.
 
In spiritual growth, there are some things that are very painful and hard.  For instance, not using men to prove that I’m attractive and not using men to stave off feelings of loneliness is challenging.  I decided to get really comfortable with the uncomfortable feeling of loneliness rather than swimming into another relationship that I know is wrong.  I decided to stand on the shore all by myself instead of swimming with known sharks hoping they won’t maul me.
 
So I made this big decision that I’d rather be without a romantic partner than be with some guy who is an asshole who’s more trouble than he’s worth who takes away from instead of adding to my life.  I decided that when I felt lonely, to turn loneliness into a study, to write poems about it, to taste it like bitter cough syrup which is extremely uncomfortable and unpleasant.
 
In the last two weeks, my resolve has been tested.  First, Tattooed Guy contacted me and wanted to talk.  I haven’t seen him in years, and just the sight of his name or the sound of his voice gives my whole body an electrical charge.  I was honestly conflicted, so I prayed.  Eventually, in a very kind, but honest way, I said no.
 
Then a week later, another man from my past who said he’s never loved anybody as much as loves me contacted me to chat.  He’s also a compulsive liar.  I said no.
 
When it rains, it pours. A few days later, I ran into another guy from my past who actually looks better now than when I knew him.  He has no ambition and is very immature. He wanted to start seeing me again.  I said no.
 
As I gain a stronger sense of self-worth, saying no is getting easier because I know I deserve something good.  I’m not a perfect woman by any means, but I ain’t too bad either.  I deserve a man who is honest and kind, and I’m willing to wait.
 
I’m willing to be wildly uncomfortable at times. I know that I’m on the right road, but there are challenges, temptations, times when I’m hurt and injured, and I want a familiar man crutch. But I’m truly dedicated to healing and not falling for quick fixes and men who are too good to be true.
 
On all of our paths to our better selves, there is going to be something on the side of the road beckoning us to take a short cut or to stop and give up, but there will also be something that will help you move forward too.  Whatever your goal is right now whether it’s weight loss, a better job, or a healthy partner, you got this.  Trust that you are worthy of the life you want. If you falter a bit, who cares.  You can do it anyway.  I completely believe in you because, sweetie, there are worse things than being uncomfortable.

​Long ago, I believed in the concept of blood memory that there are some ways of knowing that we inherit.  Lately, there is some science that says humans inherit the trauma of their ancestors.  I haven’t read up extensively on the science, but it’s an interesting idea. 
 
The idea that we inherit the trauma of our ancestors is interesting because if we inherit the trauma, then we inherit other things too like beauty, intelligence, and strength.
 
No matter what kind of family you come from, and no matter what your parents gave or didn’t give you, there are people in your family, even if it was a few generations back, who were beautiful, and good and strong, and some of that is inside you right now.
 
Or, if there are people in your family who did bad things, it does not mean you are doomed because you have the personal choice to be something better, and maybe you can change what your descendants will inherit by learning how to love yourself more.  Resiliency is a skill like running or driving meaning it’s something you can learn and get better at through practice.   
 
There is beauty, strength, and goodness inside all of us. Most importantly, we all have the capacity to choose who we are now, and each of us can always make a decision to look for and honor the innate beauty and special gifts we all have.  We can be strongly tied to our past but not tied down by it.  May you remember that there is great good inside you and that you are capable of being resilient, and you can be something nobody in your family has ever been.

​So many times in my life, people tried to hurt my feelings on purpose, and relished in hurting me.  One of the reasons I have hard time hurting people’s feelings is because I don’t want to be like that, and I also want to be liked.  But I need to be honest even if being honest hurts someone’s feelings. 
 
I can’t be responsible for other people’s feelings or how people see me.  I need to make this into a mantra that I repeat to myself often.  Daily.  Hourly.  Even if I tried to look cool, that doesn’t mean other people will think I’m cool.  By willing to be more vulnerable and less guarded in relationships, maybe I can actually get what I want. 
 
If I’m going to be honest with myself, I need to admit to myself that maybe one of the reasons I’ve been picking punishing and/or unavailable men is because those ones are easy to let go and maybe I like my freedom more than I ever dreamed possible. My reasons are complicated, but this does play a part.
 
I’m a very independent person, and part of me is afraid that I’ll never find a man who truly values my ability to have a meaningful life filled with activity BH (before him).  Part of me is afraid that some guy is going to come along, and the party will be over, and I’ll have to sit on the couch and be quiet and endure dumb shows on Netflix.
 
Maybe being more honest about much I love my independence and how much I value that trait in others is the key to something better.  I don’t like camping, football or runny eggs. I love buying new lipsticks, reading women’s magazines, and my car is usually messy.  This is my truth, and maybe someday this will be endearing to someone. 
 
It’s not going to kill me if someone thinks I’m shallow because I read People magazine and decides not to like me.  It’s not going to kill me if someone doesn’t like me because I laugh too loud or because I need some alone time every day.  Not everybody needs to like me. 
 
I need to be more comfortable telling my truth.  There have been times when people offered me food I’m allergic to, and I ate it to be polite because I didn’t want to hurt their feelings.  I’m allergic to wheat and dairy, and I’ve eaten pizza to not make a fuss. 
 
I have no control how others see me.  I am not responsible for other people’s feelings.  It’s okay if some people don’t like me.  Must keep repeating this.
 

As I move closer to who I really am and take steps toward the life I really want, some of my old issues are rising to the surface and are clinging on for dear life.  Some of these old issues are like friends I’ve outgrown who don’t want to leave the party or company that has just stayed too long.
 
There are parts of me and ways of being that I’m done with, but it’s still hard to let them go.  It’s like these old ways are well lit superhighways, and I suddenly decided to go off the road without a car, a map or a flashlight.  I’m either bush whacking my way through ancient paths or I am going places within myself where I’m blazing a new trail.
 
All this hacking, this falling down, getting lost and getting dirty is exhausting.  I keep getting my heart broken, but I no longer blame the other person.  I can look at myself and see where I picked men who were a form of punishment.  They were tools (haha) that I used as a way to punish myself and feed some part of me that felt guilty for being.  I’m sooo done with that shit.  So done.  But.
 
These punishing man tools are climbing out of the woodworks lately, and some of them are hot.  I must not be lured back to the superhighway.  My arms are tired.  My feet hurt, and sometimes I want something familiar or just a nice drink of water from a well that I know is poisoned.  I’m ready to let this pattern go, and it’s trying to tighten its grip around my neck. 
 
On Saturday night, I took myself out on a date which consisted of dinner, a movie and dancing.  I saw the Queen of Katwe about a girl from Uganda who was a chess genius.  It was an inspiring true story that made me cry. One of the lines of the movie stood out to me.  The main character struggled with self-doubt and feeling like she didn’t belong in her new life.   Her coach at one point told her something like just because you’re comfortable with something, it doesn’t mean that you belong there.  I relate to that.
 
I’ve been fairly good about my exercise lately, and I’m working on my eating habits in a real way.  My eating habits are hard to change.  Eating has been a familiar form of self-punishment or self-neglect by either eating so much that my pants hurt, or I denied myself the foods I really wanted like honey because I gave up all forms of sugar for several months.  I’m going to start eating honey again by the way.
 
Dealing with my food issues is one of those things that brings up my deepest fears and insecurities about all kinds of things, and the less I use food as my go to coping tool, the more I’m left with my deepest fears and insecurities that have been waiting for me all along like kids who didn’t get off on the right bus stop, and now I have to deal with them and put them where they belong which is off my bus.  This is hard.  Those little brats like my bus, but I want them gone.  The ride is over.
 
So here I am.  I have struggles.  I have lots of great things in my life and moments of so much beauty that I’m humbled and overwhelmed and dazzled, and I have this other stuff too.  I’m shifting in really great ways that I’m excited about, but these shifts are not easy, and there are often tears involved.  And being lost in the dark is scary sometimes.  I don’t know where I’m going.  But I’m glad to be off the old superhighway.  Here’s to all of us getting lost and getting dirty. 

​Last weekend, I slept in a room full of strangers.  I spent two nights in a hostel in a cozy house that reminded me of New England, the kind of house I still find charming.  Tall and narrow with little rooms and wood floors.
 
I attended my first weekend of yoga teacher training, and I was nervous and exhilarated.  I didn’t know anyone, and prior to starting I’d hoped to lose more weight and be in better shape.  By the time I arrived at the hostel and checked in, I was so excited to be alone in a quaint, charming town alone that I forgot to feel disappointed about anything at all.
 
After I made my bed because I knew I’d be back late, and I chatted with another guest, a guy with big brown eyes who looked impossibly young and thick haired who said he could eight run miles in near zero- degree weather.  Then I walked around town with my plum colored yoga mat slung over my shoulder before I went to the yoga studio.   I walked by a hippie store that sold rocks, and there was a big homemade sign in the window that said seekers of the truth were welcomed.
 
Somehow, I felt like that little sign was something I was meant to see.  I walked by it several times throughout the weekend.
 
Once I arrived at the yoga studio, I was relieved that my classmates were warm and friendly, and of all shapes, sizes and ages.  The yoga instructor reminded me of a brunette version of Sarah Jessica Parker except prettier and with muscles.
 
I have so much to learn, and my first weekend of an eight-month program is just the beginning of I don’t know what.  I need to learn bones and muscles.  I need to learn about the art of inner listening, the Sanskrit names for poses, and how to make the palms of my hands stronger. I can already feel myself changing.  I can already feel my own hand reaching towards my own heart. 
 
As I walked around on my breaks from class, I remembered how essential it is to me to have time and space to meander and think.  I haven’t given that to myself in a long, long time.  I remembered how you can walk around the corner of a sidewalk and be completely caught off guard by something beautiful.  On a cool, overcast morning, I was startled by a perfect crow standing in the middle of a sidewalk, and I gave it the food I had in my hands.
 
I have so much to learn about what yoga is.  I have so much to learn about who I am.  One question I have written in the front of my yoga notebook is “How do I love and give attention to what I’m avoiding?”  I don’t know yet, but I look forward to finding out.  May we all learn to break away from being comfortable.  May we all learn to love what we’re avoiding.

​Just as sure as shards of glass will turn into something smooth if you throw them into the sea, I have been in the depths so long that I’m emerging as something different. A fundamental part of me is shifting.
 
I’m starting to realize that I have value whether I give or not.  Giving and making a positive difference in the world is still important to me.  Being a good mom, which means making all kinds of emotional and financial sacrifices, is important to me. But I am coming to the radical realization that I have worth whether I give or not.
 
If I’m lying on my couch reading a magazine for fun giving nothing to the world, I still matter.
 
I don’t have to give to everyone who needs something.  This is a huge shift in my thinking.  For example, if there are people who need to talk about themselves for two hours non-stop without a breath, I do not have to listen.  If there is someone who sings badly who needs someone, anyone to perform for, I don’t have to be the audience.  It’s okay if I feel pity for people, but I don’t have to let them bleed me dry.
 
If there are people who interrupt me in conversation, or who talk over me when I say something, it’s not a que for me to keep listening because they have needs.  It’s a que for me to ask myself what I’m getting out of it and whether or not I want to stay.  Life guards at public pools get time to swim for fun.  If professional givers like members of the clergy and doctors can get time off to watch a football game or play a game of cards, I can have time off from giving too.
 
If I don’t give myself my own attention, I’ll be worn out and resentful and unable to give anything at all.  Next week, I begin my yoga teacher training, and I can’t wait.  I’ll have hours to focus on my own body and time to focus on something that matters to me.
 
I give myself permission to walk away from things and people that deplete me.  This doesn’t mean that I’ll never lend a sympathetic ear to someone I care about.  It just means that my own needs are a factor in the equation of life, and that I can choose not to give and still have worth and value.  May we all remember that we don’t have to give to everybody who asks.  May we all remember that one of the most beautiful things we can give to ourselves is our own ear.

Yesterday, I decided to throw my underwear away.  Not every pair, just a pair where the elastic had started to wear out.  Normally, I wear my socks and underwear until they are shreds because I think, nobody is going to see this but me.  It doesn’t matter.  What I've realized is that kind of thinking like that is another way of saying that I don’t matter.
 
There was time when it would have been humiliating to be in an accident.  I could have been on the side of the road in tattered underwear and socks with holes. 
 
I’m tired of thinking that I don’t matter.  I’m tired of saying or thinking it’s just me.  In becoming more aware of my thoughts, I realize in how many ways I think this throughout the day.  When my kids aren’t home, I tend to eat popcorn, popsicles, or a yam for dinner.  I will cook them a real dinner, but if it’s “just me,” I’ll eat whatever and eat it quickly like I don’t even deserve the time to sit down.
 
I’m not sure exactly when or why I started to put myself last, but I know that I started doing it long before I had kids, and I’ve had enough.  It’s old.  I’m tired of it. The good news is that I’m changing for the better.  I’m doing more and more things just for me.  I’m going out of my way for myself.  I’m listening to the needs and wants of my body more.
 
I’m still a work in progress, but I’m living my life differently.  I’m going to be a yoga teacher because I want to. Doing yoga makes me feel good inside my body.  I’m letting myself go to sleep when I’m tired rather than forcing myself to stay awake because I think I should be doing something productive.  I’m wearing my good perfume on ordinary days, and most days I take a few extra minutes to put make-up on because it makes me feel pretty.  
 
I have a lot of work to do and more progress to make, but here’s to throwing out underwear that doesn’t fit.  Here’s to us listening to ourselves more.  May we all remember that if we value ourselves, the world will not end.  In fact, I’m convinced that valuing ourselves is how we make the world better.

It’s normal to want to feel attractive.  Even birds want to ‘show off what they got.’ Lots of animals have various mating rituals to enhance themselves to attract a mate.  Trying to destroy ourselves in some way is not normal, and I can’t think of any other animal in the animal kingdom that would go through great efforts or any efforts to self-destruct or distort themselves.
 
Well, animals in the wild anyway.  One of my friends had an obese cat that scared me.  It wouldn’t leave the bathroom when I needed to use it, and it ‘growled’ at me when I tried to shoo it out, so I had to pee with a massive cat watching me.
 
There are so many people going under the knife to defy effects of aging, and women spending probably billions on beauty and anti-aging products. It seems that just we aren’t happy with ourselves.  The beauty industry often takes advantage of our natural tendency to want to feel attractive into something perverse where we have to be something we’re not to be beautiful.  There are a few movie stars who I think looked better when they were more natural. By more natural, I mean with the nose and lips they were born with. 
 
What I’m not talking about is not caring, having visible arm pit hair, or something like that. Maybe some people don’t think I care because I started using a fanny pack when I go for walks, but I do care. It’s just different now.  I used to iron my clothes.  Now I hang things up right out of the dryer.  If I’m going someplace special, I’ll shave my legs.  I dye my hair.  I eat mostly healthy, and I exercise.
 
But I eat too much, and I’m working on figuring out why. I’m tired of using chips and salsa as a shield and armor.  I’m not obese, but I’d be healthier without a few pounds.  What am I trying to protect myself from?  Why is part of me afraid of my own beauty?  I don’t know yet.
 
I’m ready to swim deep and get to the root of things.  I know that eating too much is how I’ve comforted myself, and I’m ready to find healthy ways to soothe myself, feel protected, and celebrate accomplishments.  Going deep requires endurance and going to depths beyond where light has reached, and I’m not sure what I’ll find, but I’m ready to uncover and hold my own natural beauty like the precious gift that it is.

​It is normal and healthy to want to feel beautiful and attractive.  I don’t want to be something I’m not.  I just want to be unafraid of my beauty.  I’m different than I was when I was 20.  My beauty is not the same as it once was, but I believe that every human has something beautiful to celebrate and that includes you and me. Right now.  Let us all be unafraid of the things that make us beautiful.

I really admire how some curvaceous women, who aren’t rail thin, can wear two-piece bathing suits and not care what other people think.  I have never worn a two-piece. For years, I didn’t swim because I didn’t want people to see me in a bathing suit, and I missed out on so much fun.  I love swimming.
 
It took me months to sign up for salsa dance classes because I thought I was too heavy to dance.  Now, I dance, and I swim as much as I can.  I’ve come a long way.  However, I still have my struggles.
 
Right around the time my marriage was ending, I started learning to love myself more.  I lost 60 pounds.  I know what it’s like to feel overweight and overwhelmed with every ounce of my being.  Recently, I gained back about 15 pounds, and I’m working really hard to like myself as I am while making changes to slim down.  I know where I’ve been and where I never want to go back to. I decided it’s time to get serious about my health, and I’ve been floundering a bit trying to do this on my own.
 
Every time I gain weight, I know that some part of me is spiritually out of balance and that I’m not listening to my own feelings enough.  As a mom and a naturally nurturing person, it’s really easy to serve others before I serve myself emotionally.
 
But serving myself some emotional nourishment is the key to not starving for some peace of mind.  When I’m starving for some mental rest, I eat too much.  I know this.  For most people, running is torture.  For me, running is how my mind and spirit blossom.  Without some exercise, part of me withers like an unwatered plant.  Running coupled with a yoga practice makes me feel like hugging random strangers.
 
I recently moved and changed day jobs.  I slacked off on both yoga and running, and I started reaching for tatertots and drive through tacos.  This week, I resumed running but not as a punishment for anything I ate but as a way to clear my mind and have some alone time.  Alone time recharges me like nothing else.
 
After one week of running, did I have eating perfection?  No.  But I feel more emotionally rested. I do know from losing weight in a healthy way before that getting to where I want to be is not a quick process, and there are ups and downs.  Most importantly, there is no such thing as perfection.
 
I also know when to seek outside help.  One thing that helps me is support, so I joined a group of like-minded folks, and a friend and I have been emailing each other our food logs every day.  I’m at a place where I needed some outside emotional support to reach my fitness goals.
 
I hope that whatever is going on with you that you find some way to nourish your spirit.  I also hope that if you need some outside support and encouragement that you ask for it because you are so worth it!!  Change is hard but possible. Progress.  Not perfection.  BTW, this is a recent picture of me at a lake where I swam with my kids, in public, in a bathing suit.  Maybe one day, I’ll actually wear a two-piece.