Phew. What a ride! This is meant to be a love letter, so I’ll be nice.
Thank you for teaching me that I am strong, that I can get knocked down and rise wiser and kinder. I bow to the lessons. Thank you for giving me the strength to keep going and for showing me that I am not alone.
And thank you for reminding me of how truly blessed I am! This life – wow.
Thank you for helping me to see that I am a good mom and that I have a great kid. He is my guru, my sage, and the littlest love of my life. Thank you for giving me the strength to wake up at all hours of the night, for being patient during his tantrums (sometimes), and for the magic he’s showing me in the world. Thank you for answering all of my prayers with that kid!
Thank you for the original love of my life – the kid’s dad and my partner in crime. I’m still not sure how I got to be so darn lucky… thank you!
Thank you for this home! When I was a little girl, I dreamt of a home like this – beautiful and serene, somewhere to live forever and always, a fireplace with stockings, and lots of rooms to fill with memories. Now I live here and I am in awe.
Thank you for the adventures and travels, for friends near and far, for chocolate and wine and lattes, for morning snuggles in bed and five seasons of Scandal.
Thank you for showing me that there is still so much to come. Thank you.
“What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step. It is always the same step, but you have to take it.” Antoine de Saint-Exupery
It’s been awhile and in that while, I’ve often made my way to my blog and wondered if and how to resume – how to begin again. Life has been busy and time scarce. But this is always the case and unless we consciously choose to add the things we cherish to our schedules, they often get lost even if they are important (but perhaps not urgent).
For me, writing has become urgent. 2015 has delivered a series of blows to the gut that I just wasn’t expecting. Now it’s time to heal and since I was kid, that’s involved putting pen to paper (for the really, truly personal bits) and sharing stories. So today marks my beginning… again.
And today, I’m invoking gratitude because I know that even on the darker days, I still have so very much to be thankful for (my spirited boy, the love of my life, family and friends, a roof over my head, food in my fridge, breath in my lungs, etc…)
I hope that today, on this last Friday in March, you too can find something to be grateful for.
Today I woke up grateful. And happy, like deep down in my soul happy.
Today is my 30th birthday and it has been an absolutely perfect day.
Today I realized that all of my dreams have come true. Every single one.
It scares me to say that, as if saying it will bring something bad on, but there’s so much crap in the world that sometimes we all have to shout out loud about the good stuff.
And there’s a lot of good stuff everywhere.
So, dear world, thank you for making this gal feel so darn loved.
When I was 18, I left home. With fiery abruptness, I started my independent life. Work, school, survival… somehow I managed on my own.
In hindsight, that time in my life makes perfect sense. I was always fiercely independent. I’ve had some sort of income since I was ten. I walked myself to school in Greece when I was four. At six or seven, I decided to leave our seventh storey apartment, walk a few major blocks across big intersections to Kmart to buy my mom a gift – a fancy mug. Needless to say, my resourcefulness was often the cause of much worry and drama.
This unyielding independence has made it extremely difficult for me to ever accept help and I’d certainly never ask for it. It always seemed like a sign of weakness… until now.
We have survived the last few weeks with Ryan thanks to the grandmas who held him until the wee hours of the morning, the aunties who dropped everything when Matt was sick to provide an extra set of hands, the grandpas who bought groceries and fixed pipes, the friends who dropped meals on our porch like sneaky little mice… We needed help and we got it.
It’s been hard for me to accept this help without feeling like a failure – ‘I should be able to do this on my own’. But two light bulbs went off this week:
One – My doctor told me to stop squandering the help I’m being offered and try being grateful instead. Ouch.
Two – I stumbled upon these wise words:
“I’ve always thought that asking for help was a sign of weakness, but when my mother died, I learned that it takes greater strength to lean on others than to stand alone. In order to heal, I asked, ‘What help do I need in this moment?'”
It’s the last day of 2013. For this gal, it feels like the last day of a much longer chapter. Today feels rather monumental.
At some point in the next month, I’ll become a mom. Just a few days ago, I said a temporary, year-long goodbye to the job I’ve held and molded for 10 years. And this is the last new years I’ll ring in as a twenty-something-year-old. See? Monumental.
As I look back on the last decade, I do so with awe. Life gave me so much more than I could have dreamed of. I married my best friend. We bought a house and adopted a crazy cat. I finished my degree and then my yoga teacher cert. We travelled the world and found our home away from home (Nica). I met new friends and held on to old friends – the very best kind (core!). It was a decade filled with adventure.
My goals for 2014 and the next decade of my life (my thirties… woot!):
to be much more open to all of the amazing things life has to offer…
to live my days more deliberately, taking advantage of the breaths I’m afforded…
and to savour each and every croissant.
Wishing you and yours the most magical of years!
I’m a Gen Y yuppie and I must say, it’s pretty bang on. Most of the professional development conversations I have had with myself have sounded like this:
So many of us are unhappy not quite happy and it’s because we keep chasing the extraordinary. There’s nothing wrong with “following your bliss” – I have a soft spot for Joseph Campbell myself – but many of us think our bliss has to be something dramatic or complicated. It doesn’t, not at all.
One of my favourite scenes from Peaceful Warrior is when Millman asks Nick Nolte’s character why, if he’s so philosophical and enlightened, he works at a gas station. Nolte’s response: “This is a service station. We offer service. There’s no higher purpose.”
Maybe you don’t need to find your bliss but instead, build it. Maybe the extraordinary isn’t something you have chase because maybe, just maybe, there are no ordinary moments.