There’s a memory I hang onto when times are hard and I find it difficult to feel grateful. I’m 24 years old standing in a bathroom no bigger than a linen closet, staring at my bloodshot eyes in a mirror.
Today I’m finishing up a new writing project. I’m transforming my “Self Care Cards” deck into an updated version of helpful, healing messages so I’m sharing a blog I wrote last year about one of my favorite things – books.
Last week I received an email from a longtime reader who wanted me to know she was unsubscribing because of my newsletter about Ruth Bader Ginsburg. She was polite. She expressed appreciation for all the years of support my words had provided.
I stepped outside just before sunset, to add a little birdseed to an empty feeder because I have a raccoon who comes to visit for a late-night snack. As I turned to walk back into the house, I noticed something watching me from the edge of the yard.
I spent the morning rummaging through drawers and cabinets looking for something I hid for safekeeping a few weeks ago. Have you done that? Decided to hide something, tell yourself you need to remember where you put it, and then completely forget when the time comes to find it again?
After my dad died last November, I made a deeper commitment to my own health. Watching him go in and out of hospitals treated by well-intentioned, yet overburdened caregivers, made me vow to do whatever I could to stay out of that system.