Love, Hope, and Health

When I found myself single again after years of marriage and young motherhood, I believed that if I had only done something differently I could have saved us. Maybe if I had been more______ or less_________(you fill in the blanks), we could have survived. When I finally woke up and looked back with the clarity of 20/20 hindsight, I processed just how much I had wrapped myself in guilt and blame. Ugh. You can take the girl out of the Catholic Church but you can’t take that dang church out of the girl.

Ah yes, our old friend guilt. The things I have blamed myself for over the years are ridiculous and it took a journey of therapy and hard work to realize that. A kid randomly accused me of stealing a candy bar in Dunnington’s when I was maybe 5 and I still felt guilty because maybe I had thought about it as I stared longingly at the Charleston Chews. Red-faced and panicked, I tried to deny the baseless accusations. See? Guilt is a bitch. In an attempt to rid myself of that excessively guilty conscience, I have sloppily practiced all of the following in this particular order: owning my shit/rejecting the shit that is not mine, confronting my self-doubt, knowing my worth, taking up space, and leaning in to life. Maybe I’m biased but I think that journey may be somewhat universal to all humans and helpful to anyone wanting to live a fuller life—especially the ownership and rejection of shit. Some guilt is good to own, other guilt is complete bull. I did not steal a candy bar you crazy kid in Dunnington’s! Maybe you did you gaslighting punk.

In my roles as caregiver, parent, and teacher, I am always reviewing what I can improve upon. Though I have identified at least 92 areas with room for growth, I can confidently say that I am proud of how much I have thrived and blossomed sandwiched here between two very different generations. I started this publication three years ago this month. 166 issues later, it is clear that part of my taking up space and leaning in to life has been about writing my unique truth within and outside of this home —the good, bad, and hysterical. If these past years have taught me anything, it is that truth not only sets you free, it sets you straight and helps you sleep at night.

“You don’t need to do anything to make me happy. You already do.” he told me one night. Though it may have been a simple statement, its weight was significant and took a few days to fully sink in. I shoved self-criticism aside for once and allowed self-worth take up residence instead. I am not just good but good enough. Sure I need to keep evolving just as we all can and should, but I can rest for a minute, guilt free, and take deep breaths knowing that what I write will feature new truths of love, hope, and health. Why? Because I am no candy thief and I am gosh darn worthy of all three.