"If a life could have a theme song…mine is a religion, an obsession, a mania…" ~Ayn Rand

The Soul’s Journey: Reading for August 25th, 2016

wp-1472212978908.jpgI picked up a new pack of oracle cards while I was at Barnes & Noble last week. Getting a new pack of cards is always a role of the dice because sometimes these cards resonate and work really well with me and other times they don’t at all. In the past I would usually pick them out based on aesthetic. There are some really gorgeous decks out there and that just always seemed like a reasonable way to pick them out. However art has a way of getting to us subconsciously. Colors, shapes, imagery, archetypes, themes— though there may be certain understandings about anything which artists might use to create these decks (for instance what is masculine, feminine, warm, cold, etc) they all still tend to feel a little bit differently to each of us due to whatever personal meanings they might have also. I’ve tried using decks which to me are really beautiful; but then either something I see in the artwork or read in the guidebook (another post for another time) will just sort of make me go “eh”… so then I don’t end up using them very often.

Though I have a few decks already, I haven’t used them in a while either because they ended up not really appealing to me as much as I thought they would, or they’re a little more complicated (such as tarot) and they take a lot of time to learn.

Since my mom passed away I’ve been feeling really disconnected, disoriented and not especially up for any in-depth work with imagery, themes or suits. However since I’m not really a stranger to cards, for me they’re an obvious step in both the psychological and spiritual processing (for me those go very much hand in hand) of the loss of my mom.
I knew I wanted something simple and straightforward for this, so I
decided to go with “The Soul’s Journey” deck by James Van Praagh. It’s a 44 card deck which features mandala’s and what the author calls a “soul lesson” on each card. Underneath each soul lesson there is also an affirmation:


COURAGE: I find the inner strength to face fear with confidence.


After I got the deck home I cleansed and consecrated the cards. Cards in and of themselves are nothing of course; just images on glossy paper which has been mass-produced and sold in retail stores like Barnes & Noble. For me, there’s really not much I can get from them until I do a little bit of energy work. They’re stagnant as is right out of the box and it takes a little while to create a flow or vibe between myself and the cards.

Some of these decks will come with suggestions for how to cleanse and consecrate and others don’t. Really it’s just a matter of doing your own thing to create a connection. This deck advises to remove the plastic from the cards then hold them in your non dominant hand (that being the hand that receives energy according to some energy workers) and say a prayer or affirmation over the deck as you hold it. The booklet comes with a sample prayer but I’ll very rarely use a prayer written by someone else when I work with cards. It’s not because I don’t think the their prayers are good or well written— it’s just that I think if what is trying to be achieved is an energetic connection, the more work you put into establishing that (via your own words, prayers, thoughts and so forth) the better.  

The author’s advice about the non-dominant hand being more of an absorber of energy worked for me at the time, so I added that bit into the process. I guess if you think about it we use our dominant hand for writing which is a kind of outward flow and transference of energy from to mind, to hand, to pen, to paper. Even though both hands transfer and receive energy, the idea that the opposite is more suited for absorption clicked for me at the time. I tend to go with my gut when I work with cards and that day I had to consider the fact that I was trying to work this all out while feeling weary and sapped of energy. It’s like I’ve been on power save mode since losing mom and it takes all of the fortitude I have to simply get through the day and function normally while I’m at work and around other people. It’s getting a little easier with each day that goes by but for the most part, exhaustion seems to be how I’m processing this grief. The day of this reading I felt physically worn down and not especially interested in what I was doing at first even though for some reason, I wanted to. At this point in the cleansing process everything still felt mechanical; like I was going through the motions of this thing I used to do a lot but not really caring about it at all. That being the case the author’s suggestion that my right hand (my non-dominant hand) was primed to receive a cleansing affirmation was helpful so I went with it.

Next the author advises that all that needs to be done to consecrate the cards (infuse them with your own energy) is to simply flip through the edges of the cards, shuffle, say another prayer to set your intentions for the reading and proceed from there. What I did instead was lay all 44 cards out in front of me at once, read each one to myself, consider the mandala art briefly before placing my hand, palm down, over the card. This was a longer process compared to what the author suggested, but I like to see the whole deck out in front of me before I get started, read any words that are printed on the cards and see all of the artwork at once. After that I shuffle them all up until it feels right to lay the cards out.

Anyone can make up their own spread with Tarot or oracle cards if they want to (a spread is the order in how you lay out the cards and the meaning of each placement) but that day I used two which were suggested by the author. After that I put the book away and resolved to be on my own from there. I learned this lesson a few years ago with another deck (The Wildwood Tarot), and how the writers’ perceptions and attitude about the artwork can sometimes ruin a deck which is otherwise resonating and beautiful. A lot of the time the author of the booklet is also the artist of the cards. Whenever that’s the case it’s difficult for me to separate their applied meanings from my own interpretations— so for me it’s just better to work with them and invest time and thought into analyzing them for myself and leave the authors interpretations out of it.

I chose to use two spreads in conjunction with each other. First was the three card spread:

Card one “represents a lesson that has already been made evident but may not have been embraced or learned. This card… signified the essence of the query, and progress cannot be made unless this lesson has been addressed and dealt with.”

Card 2 “represents the energy that is currently present. This card is significant because if you’re not prepared for this lesson, it could prove to be a stumbling block impeding your progress.”

Card 3 “suggests what long-range lesson is to be learned… It may relate to the situation at hand, or it could be an ultimate life lesson of which the situation is just a piece of the puzzle.”

I laid out my cards and they read as such:


I took a picture of the cards so that I wouldn’t forget them and shuffled them up again. As I did Pete came into the room and we chatted for a couple of minutes. I explained to him what I was doing and as he does, he sat down next to me and he listened. He kissed me on the cheek then went back out into the livingroom. I shuffled and shuffled and wondered about the three card spread and my initial feelings about the lessons contained therein. I completely bristled at the first card, abundance. Mainly I think because I wasn’t feeling abundant in anything at all that night. I was preoccupied with the recent loss of my mother and the desperation I felt for some kind of solace from the situation; a sign from her, a dream about her or even some inkling that I would feel her presence at some point. Other family members had mentioned noticed traces of her after her passing; dreams, wisps of feelings, signs. I hadn’t at that point and I haven’t still. I felt a twinge of bitterness and even silliness that part of the reason why I got the deck in the first place was hoping that she would chime in at some point during a reading. I’ve heard of people using cards for ancestor work and contact with the spirits, but I personally have never been sure of what I really believe as far as all of that or what my earthly capabilities actually even are in that arena. That being the case, self-analysis and art analysis is the extent of my own practice in divination. Still, I think a part of me hoped that spiritual contact through the cards could feel true for me, even if only for only a second. As I shuffled and shuffled at some point I spoke out into the empty air and said “mom”. The word fell hallow from my lips and nothing at all stirred within me which felt like a sign or a presence or even a simple thought. I didn’t feel like I could really call on her or ask her for anything at all.

One of my family members says that she talks to mom since she passed and that it makes her feel better because she feels as though she is listening… but I simply can’t feel that way even though I’ve tried. When I say her name or try to talk to her (cards in hand or not) I don’t feel like she is there. I haven’t the slightest inkling that she is around somewhere, watching out for me, waiting for my call or guiding me. It feels only like she can’t anymore. It feels like she is gone.

After saying her name once and feeling only apathy, I let the idea of reaching her go completely. If mom is out there in the cosmos or Heaven or a spiritual plane or wherever it is she might be, then she’s on her own journey and at this point it doesn’t include me. If there is a sign waiting for me then that wasn’t my time to receive it. Like everything else I had to follow my gut on this and let the idea go. I was on my own in the reading.

The card abundance irked me to no end for all the loss and emptiness I felt in that moment— that I had been feeling consistently for three weeks straight and still feel even now. The bright red hue and the affirmation (I am a limitless being, and I can manifest whatever I desire in this physical reality) felt so completely out-of-place with where I was spiritually and emotionally that it felt almost like a cosmic slap in the face. But then I considered the abundance I felt in my life before mom died and it made sense as a lesson which had been presented before so I decided to continue on with the reading and give it a chance.

I reflected similarly on card 2, relationships as well as card 3, perseverance and scribbled some thoughts down about the soul lessons in my journal later that night; after the reading was through. 

I shuffled the cards and prepared myself for the following seven card spread. I went about this for a while and just sort of zoned until a card slipped out from the deck. Going with my gut I used the fallen card as the first of the seven card spread and laid them all out from the top of the deck from there.

In the seven card spread the first three cards (bottom row) represent energies which are currently at play in life. The fourth card (middle) represents a transition and/or obstacle between the present and the future, while the top three cards represent energies which will be at play after. It doesn’t get much more specific than that in the guidebook so needless to say, I’ve got my journaling cut out for me as I work through this reading.


I don’t know where your beliefs lie or what opinions you might have about this kind of thing… I myself am never 100% confident in making up my mind about what is true and what isn’t. I think what it boils down to is what is true for each of us and what we chose to make of it. Either way I’m just a 30 year old woman with a deck of cards trying to make sense of the most difficult thing I’ve ever been through. For all I know mom was with me all a long and she knocked perseverance right out of the deck as I shuffled.

This one Lissie,” maybe she said.

Maybe it was just me and the powers that be— God, Source, Spirit, whatever— on August 25th. Or maybe it’s all just a silly coincidence and it was just me, sitting in my room feeling lost and desperate for answers about things which are completely out of my hands and always have been. Who am I to say? I can’t really rule out any of it and I don’t care to. All I really know is that I have just experienced the most profound loss of my life so far and the cards I laid out read as such:

Perseverance, Growth, Death, Abundance, Relationships, Self-Esteem, Blame

Though some of these read as pretty obvious, I think I would have found meaning in any of the cards that I might have laid out that day. The ultimate giver of lessons in any daughters’ life is always the mother. I didn’t consciously think about it that way when I bought this deck— all I figured as I walked aimlessly around B&N is that I wanted something simple for my tired mind to work with. Now that I have worked with these cards, I know that nothing else I could have picked out that day would have better suited the task of processing the loss of her. From August 25th forward “The Soul’s Journey” its always going to be Mom’s deck and for me, that’s just how it is.






Eulogy: The Music and the Wave

This is a eulogy for my mother. I shared it with family and friends during a gathering in celebration of her life on August 7th, 2016. In time I want to expand upon it as I continue to process the grief of losing her. For now though, I want to share it as is once more in written form so that if they want to my dad, my siblings, or anyone who loved my mom can visit this page and read it.

I’m not sure if sharing a eulogy in a blog post is at all appropriate or keeping with proper etiquette. If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past week though, it’s that I don’t think that there is an appropriate way. We move forward and deal with things as we must. While this eulogy was a send off and a gift for my mother, I would like to think of it also as a gift for my family. This belongs to you. It is here for you to read at anytime. I hope that the sharing of words and memories of mom can provide some small measure of comfort and peace for all— especially for Dad, Kelly, Kevin, Michael, Jimmy, and Billy.❤






For the past week I have been looking through old photographs of my family. They range from about ten to fifteen years old and go all the way back to when my mom and dad were kids. Some were even from when my grandparents were young. I found these pictures in a trunk at mom and dad’s house, where they were stored for safekeeping until someone could get around to organizing them into albums and frames. The person who I  know for sure must have had plans for these pictures was my mother. I know because when I opened the trunk I smelled the lasting scent of smoke and singed paper. Some of the older pictures inside survived a house fire that happened when I was about six years old, and they did because of her. After she made sure we were all out of the house she stayed behind to throw albums, baby books and framed photographs over the deck railing from the second floor of the house. For years my mothers actions that day were a puzzle for us all. Though we understood the significance of old pictures, they were only that. Pictures. How could she have even thought about them at such a time? The house went up in flames almost as soon as we got out of it. I wondered why she would have risked herself for things which, though precious, were only things that could still be held in our memories and told in stories.

Just as soon as I opened the trunk on July 31st 2016, I looked down at all the many pictures as though they were buried treasure. For the first time in my life I truly understood why those pictures were worth saving, and it is one of many reasons why we owe mom more thanks than we could possibly ever give her.

Since that day I have looked over photo after photo. The smell of smoke lingered and


Wedding Rings: Mom and Dad’s wedding day.

followed me home like an old ghost as I spread them out across my living room floor. These were the earliest ones— baby pictures, baby books, my parents’ prom, wedding day, and honeymoon. Others were more familiar and memorable to me, and these were from after we moved to the big brick house in Marion. I thought for the first time in a while about what our house was like back in those days. I remember walking in the kitchen door after school and seeing mom standing at the sink, table or island making a delicious dinner of lasagna, pork chops, macaroni soup or any number of other delicious favorites. She would often have scented candles lit, and there was almost always music playing on the huge five disc CD player and stereo in the dining room. She was a country fan, but sometimes mom liked to


Mom dressed as Alice Cooper for Halloween

listen to oldies; usually in the summertime when we went garage saling. Other times it was rock and roll— Alice Cooper or the Doors. I felt a keen connection to mom through her music, and often noted the patterns of what she would listen to based on her moods or even time of year or day. I liked a lot of the music that she did but sometimes I would try to get her to listen to bands and singers that she didn’t know too well. She was stubborn and always insisted that nothing could top the music that she had known and loved for years. Still, she would always listen to a new song when I asked her to. Mostly I would get a nod of approval or a headshake if it was a flat “I don’t like this.” Right now I can only think of one 90’s band that she really liked. It was Oasis, and one night we listened to “Be Here Now” all the way through from track 1 to 12.



“These guys are good,” she said at one point. “So what, are they like The Beatles of your time?”

“I’m not sure, but no. I don’t think so.” Is what I said.


Sounds, sights, smells, music. They all came back to me with every picture that I flipped through. The candles, the food, the smell of leather, tack, coats, boots and hats that we got after mom and dad bought the horses, the trip we took to Niagara Falls. There were so very many heartwarming memories which I hadn’t thought of in years. When she was well mom was the light of our house. It was both of my parents wish to see us living out a happy childhood and together they succeeded; but mom was the artist in her vision and at the helm of every family adventure. She was the listening ear, the silly laugh, the knowing smirk. She was the reason why sometimes when I was at school and had a sniffle, I wanted to go home even though I wasn’t all that sick. She was the shoulder I cried on after a bad day, and the “I love you” after every phone call.

The timeline of the pictures from the trunk came to a scathing halt at somewhere around ten or fifteen years ago. I’ve been sitting here frozen for some time now trying to put into words the years that followed, and just how much I came to realize the powerful effect my mother’s health and state of being had on our home down to every last family member, frame, fabric, and brick. As she changed, so too did her Household. That was how powerful and intense my mother was. All that was internal for her was echoed outwardly into every facet and fiber of her surroundings, no matter what stage of life she was in. Though the past decade was not without its moments of joy and happiness also, I cannot talk about them without getting into the complicated, multi-layered nature of mom’s illness. Today as we gather to celebrate her life, we will remember instead her vibrancy, her light, her love. We remember her Rock and Roll, her laughter, her hugs. We remember the smell of her cooking as we walked through the door after school, and her favorite candles. We remember Thanksgiving turkeys, Easter egg hunts and presents piled high under the tree on Christmas morning. We remember heart to hearts on the porch as powdery moths fluttered at the light and listened to long conversations on summer nights. We remember coffee and cigarette’s, we remember chicken soup and tea when we were sick, we remember the parrots, parakeets, horses and baby deer that she sought to love and save. We remember the person she was, and for us her children we remember her as a parent as well. Dad has always been the rock and anchoring beat, but she was the music and the wave who moved us. Until we meet her again someday, we are now tasked with learning how to dance without her.

Always remember, “Though she be but little; she is fierce!” I never thought in a million years that Shakespeare would be who I would quote to remember my mother by, but fierce is exactly who she was; transcendental and far reaching. My mother knew how to make herself known. As long as we keep her in our hearts, she will echo back at us with every beat.


On Wellness <3

I think that when it comes to change, what it all boils down to is being really, truly ready for it. Over the years I read dozens of books, joined a handful of gyms, bought GNC supplements and protein powders, went on juice fasts and detox cleanses, tried out a few diets and enrolled in fitness classes all in the pursuit of weight loss and adopting a healthier life style.

If all of that that sounds miserable to you, then you’re absolutely right. It was. But an important thing I’ve learned through all of this is that not only did my back and forth with some of this stuff screw with my body— as well as my self esteem, as I failed to maintain any of it for very long— but being healthy simply doesn’t have to be so hard. It’s just not. True I don’t have a glowing, impressive weight loss “before and after” number or picture for you. I am only just starting out— but I can tell you how I feel, and it’s really amazing! My energy levels and mindset have improved; but it’s also incredible to feel as though I’ve broken through a cycle finally and come to certain realizations about things which have been a long time coming.

I’ve only recently learned the importance of taking time for myself— taking time ON myself, and caring for myself. When I tried to get healthy before, it was all for aesthetic. I had this image in my head of being lean and strong and standing tall in an athletic, intimidating body and that somehow, achieving that would make me happy. It would make me feel invincible, which was appealing during times in my life when I felt totally vulnerable. I’ve always had this way of putting myself at the mercy of other peoples opinions. I was a person who cared very much about what others thought of me, and to some extent I still am and probably always will be. I’ve always been perceptive of the nuances in what people say and how they say it— I’ve always been sensitive, easily hurt and eager for the approval of others. No one likes to admit that about themselves in a world that values alpha attributes and the “fuck it, I don’t care what anyone thinks” attitude; including me. Honestly I don’t think I’ll ever be that person, because I do care about what people think. I genuinely value the insights of other people and if something is wrong for them, then I want to know what can be done to reach a mutual solution that makes everyone happy.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being that way— but being too much that way is extremely stressful, because it’s impossible to make everyone happy. What’s more is that you put your own happiness on the backburner while trying to appease everyone and that just sort of kills your spirit after a while. A really great thing about growing up and getting older though is that you learn that you simply can’t make everyone happy. Not everyone is going to like you, or agree with you and vice versa. Not everyone is going to return the same feelings that you have for them and vice versa. Not everyone is going to appreciate your viewpoint— like everyone, you have a personality and for some people, your personality will be extremely annoying and aggravating. Eventually you’ll encounter people who will take advantage of your trust and kindness and screw you over. You will never understand why, and it’s going to hurt. Badly.

The point is, there are a million and a half reasons why you simply will not get along with certain people. It is impossible to jive with everyone and be friends with everyone, and your interactions with people— no matter how hard you try— will not always end well. For those who are sensitive and peacekeepers by nature, I’m convinced that after a while of feeling rejection and failure to communicate with all the intensity of a knife through your ribs; something or someone might eventually drive you over the edge. You’ll loose it for a while and it’s going to suck. But if you really want to, you’ll get through it and you will realize that you simply cannot lower yourself to feeling that way for what is essentially your own feelings of powerlessness.

I keep writing “you” but this is of course all me. I’m speak to those who might feel the same at times, but will never presume to speak for you.

My point is that no matter what it is that eventually takes you down and sends you into a SPIRITUAL WELLNESSdescending spiral, it gets easier once you learn to let it go. Not bury it or pretend like it doesn’t exist or never did for you; but really truly come to a place where it no longer has power over you— whether it was a toxic person, a traumatic event, a negative mindset or all of the above. You take whatever measures you have to in order to start taking care of yourself. You begin to heal, and then you grow. I believe that that is what happens when we allow ourselves to move forward and that’s what I feel is finally happening for me now.

I know that our tendency to throw around words and phraseology like “letting go”, “healing”, “personal/spiritual growth”, “self love” and the rest sound tedious, impossible and even stupid when battling depression, anxiety, anger or any other low vibrational feelings which make us feel drained and hurt— buy they are real and powerful things if you allow them into your life, and they are key to being well, both physically and otherwise.

I cannot stress enough that it is not my intention to preach— only write about my experiences and how I’m coming along lately. Either way; looking back on how I felt through the majority of my twenties it’s no surprise that I wanted a body like Jennifer Garners! Lol— I’m sure that subconsciously my desire to be strong on the outside was stemming more from some need of internal strength more than anything else.

This started out as a post on fitness and I’ll tie it all in later. For now though; I have to get to work so it’s time to wrap this up.


Much love, best, and to be continued. lol.😉


Achieving Healthy Habits Over Time: Thoughts on Repeating Old Routines and “Health Kicks”

Before I started making some recent changes in attitude about food and exercise, my days were generally very much the same as far as what I ate. I’d grab a bagel or a breakfast sandwich for breakfast while I was at work— sometimes whole grain cereal if I got up early enough to eat it but usually not. I would have a slice of pizza or a sandwhich for lunch, and a dinner of meat and vegetables. I would feel bored and hungry when I watched TV so I’d make myself a plate of cheese, crackers and grapes with a glass of red wine or eat chips, candy or popcorn. Sometimes these things would be just a quick, small snack and in which case, no big deal. Othertimes though, not so much. Netflix marathons are dangerous things! Once I got a little too comfortable with watching too much TV regularly my snacking habits went hand in hand in excess with that. I would get home from work, shower, then plop down on the couch and barely move for the rest of the day, and I didn’t think twice about any of it until very late at night. I would wake up with anxiety over something or other, and my thoughts would eventually go back to what (and how) I ate that day, and how I chose to spend my time.

Why did I do that again? I would think. I’d resolve to make better choices through the next day and most of the time, I did. Eventually though I ended up right back on the couch, watching episode after episode of some show or another and wondering why I was doing that as hours passed me by.

I fell in and out of healthy diet and excercise kicks many times before this, and while that in and of itself can be an unhealthy pattern I think that each time I did it I learned something new. I learned about what my limits are as far as excercise and starting right off the bat when I’m not in shape. I learned about what activities I loved and which ones would ultimately leave me feeling bored, and introduced better and healthier foods to my


Recent food prep: red leaf lettuce, plum tomatos, cucumbers, red grapes, beef strips, brown rice, vegetable mix and winter squash.

palette each and everytime. So even though I eventually fell back into old routines and poor eating habits, I still gained some new and better ones which overtime gave me a leg up.

For instance— through most of my teenage and young adult years, I never really cared for vegetables. I didn’t hate them, but if I had other options I would always chose something else. After changing it up and eating more vegetables though, I began to enjoy them and actually crave them. I have a wide range of foods that I like and am at the point now where it’s more a matter of cutting certain things out or cutting back on them rather than introducing whole new foods into my diet, which I think is much harder to do— but worth it!

There’s been a lot of trial and error as far as exercise too, and I’ve found that I am happiest when I am outside hiking through woods, swimming in lakes, oceans and pools and climbing hills and waterfalls. I’ve tried the gym memberships a few times and I always start off loving them. Eventually though I get bored with 40 minute elliptical sessions and lifting weights, and those activities start to feel like a chore.

For me, excercising outdoors never feels like a chore. It feels like play and that’s what I love about it. Yesterday when I went to one of the wooded parks where I live I ran, walked, jogged and sprinted my way through it until I had gone about 3 miles. I checked my Fitbit and between my run around the park and some walking that I had done earlier in the day, I was almost up to 4 miles.

Why not go for 5 before I leave? I thought, so I did. I stayed close to the front of the park and took a couple laps around the shorter trails, sometimes vering off the path to sprint up steep inclines. It was such a beautiful day! A little humid as it sprinkled on and off; but a pleasant temperature and nice breeze which would sometimes kick up to a stronger wind.

Being outside makes me feel happy and energized. I will seldom go that extra mile (literally!) on a treadmill or elliptical. But if I’m outside I’ll do it everytime. Again, it’s just a matter of making sure that I choose one activity (excercise) over another (marathon Netflix).


Healthier changes always make me feel better— so what is it that causes me (and others I suspect, though I will not at any point pretend to be an authority on this stuff) fall off the wagon and return to bad habits which always end up making me feel tired, miserable and ultimately unhealthy? I’ve had a lot of thoughts (and breakthroughs, which have been the result of a couple years of hard work) as far as mindset and mental state recently and I’ll delve into that later. I have a feeling that it’s going to take up a lot of space so I’ll save it for the next post, lol!

Some parting thoughts before I go, though. If you’re like me and you tend to fall in and out of excercise and healthier dietary “kicks”, be easy on yourself about it. While these changes are better for us and necessary if we want to improve our quality of life, like everything else it’s about learning, and that takes time. Changing our minds and our bodies takes alot of effort and it’s a process, because those two things are not exclusive if our goal is to be healthy. They go hand in hand and more often than not it’s about healing than it is about kicking our own butts until we’re fit. It’s true that there are people who are able to get up one day and resolve to change all of these things about themselves at once and that is incredible and wonderful! We hear about those stories all the time on TV and in magazines, but I suspect that that is actually pretty rare and not a very fair expectation for ourselves.

Still, for me I’d rather that not be an excuse to dabble in healthier exercises and never really make an effort to change, either. That would be really disappointing after a while. If you feel that way also my suggestion is that as you learn and grow, focus on what you’ve gained in your efforts as far as knowledge and habits no matter how small; even when you lose sight of them at times. They’re there and you’ve aquired them— I think it’s just about how willing we are to focus on the the positive takeaways rather than some of the less than desirable routines we might fall back into along the way.

Much love always;

On Health and Fitness: Maintaining Daily and Weekly Goals

I started my day by opening up my planner and jotting down some notes and goals for the week— I haven’t always exactly been Type A in my habits, but since I’ve started keeping an agenda for myself there is something almost meditative about the process of getting up in the morning and planning out my chores, exercises and to-do lists over my first cup of coffee. It’s really rewarding to go back to my planner and cross off all of the 13628361_564938033677368_1524879850_nthings I get done, too!

As of today I’ve just about depleted my stock of fresh fruits and veggies so tonight I’m shopping and prepping meals. I’m working a mid-shift today so to me, that’s really perfect timing. I’ll have just enough hours in the day to stock back up on fresh produce and grains then get home and prep everything. I usually get more done when I have smaller windows of time. Maybe that sounds backwards, but I’ve found that on my days off when I have whole hours stretched before me to do all of the things I have planned, I tend to dawdle more. I’ll get up and tinker on my blog and Instagram, browse through Facebook, watch T.V, putter around and then before I know it I’ve wasted whole hours of the day without having completed much at all.

I’m ok with that though. They’re days off for a reason so as I’m trying to build up my schedule and get into habits which are more fulfilling than how I’ve generally lived over the past few years—which consisited of going to work and waiting to go back to work— I don’t mind letting somethings slide if I lose track of time. The problem is that what I usually let slide are my chores, so laundry tends to pile up and my apartment isn’t as tidy as how I kept it at first. But the way I see it is that those things can be done at anytime. As long as I’m doing enough to where I’m not living like a total slob, it’s more important to me now to stick to the things which will bring me closer to my personal and creative goals. Cleaning can wait if it has to.

My Fitbit has been a huge help in keeping me motivated in staying on top of exercise and diet. I’ve got to hand it to the creators of that thing— I’m not OCD about most things but whatever tendencies are there, the Fitbit plays on them brilliantly!

On days that I work I tend to get anywhere from 15,000 to 20,000 steps in. I have a job where I’m active and on my feet the whole time so if that sounds like a lot to you, I don’t think that that high of a number is necessary if you have a desk job and are starting out with a Fitbit or any pedometer. I’ve worked that way for years and my body has become accustomed to being on my feet all day, so to me, the first 10,000 don’t really count for much. I usually hit that number right after my lunch.

Days off are a different story. When I first started tracking with my Fitbit I’d get all those steps in on days that I worked yet clock out on my days off at like 500 steps! Which of course was indicative of my generally sedentary lifestyle outside of my job. Those 500 steps where just slight meanderings around my apartment and not much else. So on my days off now my goal is to get out and either walk, run or both until I reach at least 10,000 steps. It may not be much now as I’m first starting off, but it’s much more than I’m used to doing when I’m not at work.

Yesterday was really hot and I almost called it a day after my 2500 steps or so around the block. But if I don’t meet my number goals it drives me crazy! So I went to a nice, shady park and hiked around for about an hour until I reached my 10,000.

Whether or not the Fitbit is a healthy way to stay on track is arguable. I know some people don’t believe in being number oriented in health and diet, but I think that as long as you don’t get carried away and can maintain a sense of balance in approach, it’s a really helpful tool in holding to your goals because you see exactly what you’re accomplishing. To me at least, that is a motivating and powerful thing.

Yesterday I almost gave up on my step goal because it was too hot for a run, and I maintain that that was practicing good judgement! I’m not a very fit person and am only just starting off with making some healthier changes. Running out in the hot sun would have likely been a disaster for me. I know from past experience that running in those conditions leaves me feeling exhausted and depleted of energy for the whole rest of the day. That is not what I want for myself— because I have learned through trial and error that after I feel like that I tend to avoid exercise; which results in me falling off the wagon once more.

But those steps, though! Those happy faces, green lines of accomplishment, and moments of activity tracked— I don’t mind falling short just a little; but when whole days go by and I’ve barely reached my goals then that feels like a problem to me. So I thought about it some more and figured that if I took to a shadier place (where I live is very woodsy so lucky for me there are lots of places like that!) and kept it to a walk I would be fine.

I reached my goals for the day and I felt great afterwards… which of course is the ultimate goal that will keep me going! There are always solutions if you want to achieve something, and I believe that they don’t always  have to including pushing yourself to exhaustion.


The day I almost gave up.🙂



I am very grateful for the life that I have and the opportunity to work on myself and building a life that I want and can be happy with. For a long time I worked multiple part time jobs, went to school, and kept myself busy with things which, though rewarding in their own way left little time for me to pay attention to how I was actually treating myself. It’s easy to say that if you put your mind to something you can do anything. I think that there is truth in that, but time is a real issue also and when we don’t have any to spare it’s understandable that we let ourselves go at certian points in our lives— both physically and even mentally at times. Our time that we have flucuates and changes as our lives and daily demands do. I’m trying to be mindful of the fact that I am in a bracet where I’m not working quite so much, school is on hold until I decide to go back (should I decide to) and there are no little ones to take care of. While all of those things are wonderful opportunities and blessings— especially having children, which maybe someday I will be ready for and lucky enough to have— I’m looking at the time I have now as a gift as well. I’m trying to make the most of it while I can and form habits which will help to keep me healthy and happy through most of my life. Maybe once I do, I won’t even need the Fitbit anymore to keep me at it! It will just be my life, and how I learned to live it every day.

Best and with love;




About Writing: My First Memories

When I was in the second grade my class read “Number the Stars” by Lois Lowry. Our images (1)teacher read the story out loud, and I was so interested in how the characters’ story unfolded with every chapter. Annemarie Johansen was fictional, but through her story I learned that she was three years older than I was, and that she lived in a different part of the world, during a different time, under circumstances which were completely different than my own. There were a lot of things about her life that were nothing at all like mine, but some things were and that made me feel a sense of connection to the character and her story. I loved the flow of words on paper, and how certain passages or even short sentences were striking in their beauty, sound and subtleties. When we picked up our books for reading I gazed at the somber face of Annemarie Johansen, and sometimes wondered about the mysterious person— Lois Lowry— who wrote all of the words inside and made her story come alive for me.

“I want to write one of these someday,” must have gone through my mind during the reading of that book— because though I can’t remember one defining moment where writing became a career goal, it was in that same classroom where the teacher asked us to make a picture of something that we wanted to do someday. Or maybe it was something that we wanted to become?

Either way, while the class got to work with crayola crayons and construction paper, I grabbed a piece of white paper and a pencil and wrote:

“A girl named Melissa” and scribbled my name below the title.

I drew a big oval with two skinny lines on the side for hair and a frowning face. It wasn’t very colorful but the teacher said it was good so I took it home to show mom.

“Oh my god!” She said, giggling maybe because of the melodramatic image of my future biography. “Why do you look so sad?”

I can’t remember why. I’m not sure if I was mimicking the face on “Number the Stars”, or because of some sadness I was experiencing at the time, or if I even just figured then that life is long and there was sadness yet to come. Anyway I was always a bit of a melancholic kid and tended to express that about myself, even before the the second grade.

To give you some idea, this is the first story that I can remember writing. I published it in one of those little cardboard books when I was six years old.


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…Maybe that was why I was so sad; my first taste of literary rejection came so soon in life!

Even though “The Stereo That Flew” was written before the second grade, I remember second grade as being a big year for me as far as my earliest aspirations for writing were concerned. I’ll never forget the night when my sister—who was a teenager at the the time— took me out for a girls night. I think we just went to Wal-Mart and a movie or something, but those kinds of memories with her and my other siblings have always been gems for me. We went to the store and she told me that I could pick out something for myself. I grabbed a small, decorative notebook with lots of pages and purple lines. There were little


Me and my sister❤

folders on the inside too, which really sold me on this particular notebook (though I never figured out a use for them). I got to work on my stories right away. Sometimes I sat by my sister while she did her homework and drew on trapper keepers and notebooks, and I would mimic her artwork. There was this flower that she liked to draw that had four petals. I drew my own sloppy version and kept on drawing them in the margins next to my scribbled stories until I got really good at it, and I carried the habit of doodling that doodle with me all through high school and college.


When I wrote stories in the notebook that she got for me, I would always take them to class to share. I was never shy about my writing and was always eager to read it out loud to others when I was young. Like I mentioned in the slide show, I was a total ham about it! I often named my characters after my friends and asked for their advice about my stories and what they wanted to see happen, and while I’m sure that that kind of thing isn’t unusual for a kid that age— or telling in anyway about talent— I recall having other daydreams and career goals during that time in my life also. I was a big fan of “Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego” and thought that being a detective was a viable route. My dad even set me up a little two tiered desk with an old magnifying glass that he got at an auction so that could I play detective. I also wanted to be a Jedi and learn to use the force!

I had a lot of big dreams back then; but it was only the writing thing that ever truly stuck with me through life.

Recently I went rummaging through a big trunk full of old photos, documents, and stuff at my parents house. I found a few old cardboard books inside. A couple were written by me and some were by my two younger brothers. I had to laugh at how simple mine were in comparison to theirs.

Before I go on, I don’t think it’s actually fair to flip through the works of children and compare them as “better than” or “worse than” because at that age kids are really just expressing themselves in their own unique ways… but really, as storytelling goes and what I’ve learned about it over the years? My brothers’ books were way more creative than my little “Stereo that flew”! Theirs were complete with artwork and clever titles and words that filled up half the page with description and detail and even poetry in some of them. So while it’s true that it’s not fair to compare, I think that it is also true that if one were to open up all of the little cardboard books that were written by me and my brothers and guess which one of us was the writer, I would have easily been the last guess.

I have never believed that I am a naturally gifted person. For me writing isn’t unlike the four petaled flower doodle— I just kept working on it until I got decent at it because I wanted to. Somewhere in that process it became a habit.


Recent free writes and draft ideas that I scribbled out at Writers and Books, ROC