disappearing act.

june twelfth to the twentyseventh have been awful; something is wrong with you and our communication went from sixty to zero within the moment you received that call. in this time i've found it hard to digest all of my food and when running long distances and wanting to quit, i'd remind myself that you probably can't run right now and for that reason alone, i couldn't quit. you love running.

but to my joy, your disappearing act ended today. and i'm quickly reminded that my doer-in-times-of-crisis personality isn't what you need, or even what i need. in fact, i should probably invest in new ways to cope... something about sitting in the pain and feeling what i'm really feeling. or making peace with the unknown. and letting your story be your story, not mine.

ready when you are. no more disappearing, please.

sevenhundred and thirty days.

today was my two year anniversary at work. holy crap i've been to hell and back... personally, professionally and everything in between. i'm happy to say, however, that i wouldn't trade these last two years for anything. there's something about giving your all and loving the work that makes it worth it.

here's to the four of us who've made it together: cheers.

i bet you're having panic attacks.

i would be, if i knew what you knew.
we miss you. come back to the pentagon where decisions are made.

i believe my heart is a puzzle.
each piece is in the shape of someone near and dear.
the dearer you are, the bigger the piece.

here's how this puzzle is different, though:
when a piece gets lost
all the pieces still fit together
to create an entire puzzle.
they just need to rearrange their edges,
a little bit with time.
some pieces grow and some shrink.
but it always seems to take shape.

and this is my reality:
i am surprised by how small
some of you puzzle pieces actually are,
compared to what i believed you to be.

pressing in, pressing on.
[by turning grief into a money maker...
which eventually just becomes a money maker]

i'm wearing turquoise for you.

for you who are in mourning.
for you who are sick.
for you who continues to hold the weight of the world.

and for you, the one who resides in boston:
hold onto your one ounce of courage.
it will get you through this day,
and tomorrow, especially.

and for you, little one who went to sleep tonight.
bless your mother as she will lose hope in this world
and grandmother as she will not understand.
i am sorry it ended this way.

i am here and i'll have a cup of tea with you.
i have no words but i am here.
i will keep providing an unconditional care,
the kind that only knows yes.

pressing in, pressing on.

thoughts on growing up.

over the years i thought i'd figured out what it meant to be a "grown up"; something about paying my own bills and having a salaried position. and then i was unpleasantly welcomed into last week where i realized i actually had no idea what it meant to be an adult, a real life grown up.

i'm realizing that being a grown up is determined by experiences like babies and sickness and depression and heart ache and death. life is taking me to a place where i have to respond to these things and i keep experiencing resistance; a soft voice inside whines, "but i don't want to grow up. it's tiring to show up for these things."

i don't remember growing pains as a teenager and i never thought i'd experience them in my twenties. but damn, this hurts like hell. i'll continue to quiet that small voice and keep pressing in, pressing on.

the pie making waitress.

you, with the broken heart.
i see you: the bags under your eyes
representing all of your learning.
when i look at you
i hear feist's voice:
"the saddest part of a broken heart
isn't the ending so much as the start."
and isn't that the truth?

you, with the broken heart.
your resilience and grace continue to amaze me.
fighting for something you believe in
even though the fear outweighs the sadness
and your introspection becomes a great task.

you, with the broken heart.
the uncertainty and tension of your next steps
will actually be what moves you along.
don't spend time in the "what if"
or even blaming yourself.
instead, own your courage.

you, with the broken heart:
you are not alone.

[love you, love your show]

.hello.goodbye.

hello lemon bars.
goodbye smokey oven smell.
hello green pea soup.
goodbye favorite work friend.
hello assertive communication.
goodbye david's attitude.
hello long runs.
goodbye blisters.
hello rain.

when did it become june?

when did i start learning about grape varietals, vintage variation and appellations?
when did i become the point person for angry parents?
when did your saturday nights open up for me?
when did waking up at five become normal?
when did i become obsessed with the dinner party download?
when did anxiety start to trump logic?
when did i draw my line in the sand?

it became june five days ago.