You Will Grieve Forever
Why I Let My Kids See My Sadness Now (After Hiding It for Years)
“I will not teach or love or show you anything perfectly, but I will let you see me, and I will always hold sacred the gift of seeing you—truly, deeply, seeing you.” ~Brené Brown
The first time my kids saw me truly cry was Christmas of 2021. My oldest was sixteen, and my youngest was twelve.
They had just opened their presents. It should have been a warm, joyful morning. Instead, I turned away toward the foyer near the entry of the house, my back to them, as tears threatened to spill over. My mom—whose emotional chaos had disrupted a …
All the Important Things a Scale Can’t Measure
“She remembered who she was, and the game changed.” ~Lalah Delia
The scale. Those dreaded words and those dreaded numbers. It can strike fear in the heart of any generally happy human. We look at guidelines and BMI charts and always think, “It should be lower.”
Have you ever been having a perfectly good day and suddenly think, “Maybe I should weigh myself?” And just like that, your day is ruined.
How do we let a $20 bathroom scale dictate how we feel about ourselves?
I remember stepping on the scale and seeing numbers that somehow determined how I valued …
From People-Pleasing to Self-Trust: How to Come Back to Yourself
“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.” ~Carl Jung
Where did I want to go out to eat?
The question was straightforward, and the answer should have been easy. But as my mind flipped through the options, my thoughts weren’t focused on what I wanted. Instead, I was preoccupied with making the right choice, the one least likely to cause tension.
Yes, my partner had asked where I wanted to go. But over time, I learned that answering honestly often came with consequences. My choice might be questioned, dismissed, or turned into a debate. If …
Phone Down, Eyes Up: How to Really See the People We Love
“The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh
Judy was three the first time I missed it. She had spent a solid ten minutes stacking every couch cushion on our living room floor in Vancouver, building what she clearly considered an Olympic-grade landing pad. She climbed up on the couch, stretched her arms out wide, and gave me that look. You know the one. The look kids give you right before they do something that makes your heart jump into your throat.
“Baba, watch!” she yelled.
My phone was in my hand. It was …
Though I run this site, it is not mine. It's ours. It's not about me. It's about us. Your stories and your wisdom are just as meaningful as mine. 