things i won't apologize for.

listening to christmas music at times other than christmas

liking butterscotch and cardigans and the golden girls and other "old lady-ish" things

loving madea movies

watching old episodes of dawson's creek, cringing and all

disliking jelly beans and gummy bears, but liking candy corn, probably too much

getting mad at my team. it's my team; i can do that.

somehow hating and loving yoga in equal measure

furiously loving the people in my life

pioneer woman marathons and daydreaming about living on a ranch

having two books with me at all times only to stare out the window and people-watch

lifetime movies. i'll never apologize for these.

choosing dark nail polish over light, almost always

counting the days until it's appropriate to buy pumpkins

loving carnations

being the "grammar police"

never putting milk in my cereal

collecting j.crew catalogs

wanting a certain treadmill at the gym and being annoyed when i can't have it

wanting a certain bike during spin class and being annoyed when i can't have it 

sometimes wishing for rain

squealing when seeing babies, dogs, old people holding hands, colin firth

being particular about my food

being particular about a lot of things. my life, my rules.
ending this post's title with a preposition. i'm not sorry. and i'm not alone.
staring at this picture. i'm happy. and i'm most definitely not sorry about that.

the green chair.

we're halfway through our sixty minute session when jim tells me i look tired. the ball cap i'm wearing in an attempt to hide this isn't working. it's been over a month since i've been in his office. things have been good. i've been working on "fixing" things without him. because there's going to come a day when i no longer have that green chair.

if you are in a good place then fly solo for a bit, he told me. 

so i did. 

but life happens. and even though nothing bad has happened, i worry. because things are good this must mean they're about to be bad. you know how wrong and draining this thought is. you feel the first second of things starting to add up. so you make an appointment, get on a train, and sit in a green chair.

sometimes you get too close to things that make you feel tired. you wait for a phone call. still. you don't write as much as you want. or run as much as you want. or sleep. you step on the scale for no good reason. things like this happen. you read what the world has to say about this woman and what she's chosen to share and you're reminded of how much ugliness exists. but also how much strength. but things like this make others feel fresh. and you have to feel all of these things all over again, but you already do, every second you're awake. because you don't know how not to. you hate this about yourself. you hate the things you wish you could let go of. 

you're a food addict. 

jim says this and i don't look at him. i spend a lot of time looking at what's on his book shelf: photos of his two sons and books about buddhism.

of course i've thought this, but the words hit a bit harder when he says them. because there's no avoiding/pretending not to hear them.

i will not let this be the rest of my life. i will free myself of this. 

certain foods trigger old feelings. they have the power to make you feel bad.

jim says this and i listen. i think of how being in a kitchen with macaroni and cheese on sunday afternoon made me feel. i didn't want it. i paused and asked myself, do you want any of this? macaroni and cheese is not bad. food is not bad. 

it's what we choose to do with what's in front of us that matters.

i paused, i don't want this. i want some taco chips and hummus. 

i want. i want i want i want. what do i want? what does my body want? what does my body need? we are worth these questions. the universe will never stop trying to convince us that we're not.

things like this exist. good is everywhere in this world.

the pause. that's the hard part, but it's everything.  

it gets easier. and then you have a few bad days and it's hard. but then it's easy again. like life.

a different story.

"Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves, and so I chose to tell myself a different story from the one women are told."
 -Cheryl Strayed, Wild 

these are your instructions. ask questions.

you want answers? ask questions. 

why did you have a headache that lasted four days? you handle stress poorly. very poorly. 

what helped alleviate day 3 of that headache? sharing animal crackers with the toddler in your lap while watching/quoting “the sandlot."

what do you want?

what do you want? 

if you cannot answer this question then you need to keep asking it. 

ignore the inner child who was always told to stop asking questions. asking yourself what you want and need feels foreign. it feels foreign because we rarely ask it. everyone else gets this question from us. we need to change the audience. you deserve to answer this question just as much as anyone else.

ask for what you need. ask yourself, your partner, the universe. 

what are you hungry for? we're all starving for something. some days it's ten different things.  but none of these are crappy food. we are not hungry for things that are bad for us. we are hungry for things that will nourish us. 

you do not want bad food. you do not want to miss the gym. you want answers. 

keep asking the questions, even the ones that drive you mad.

you want love? learn to love yourself. this is a daily job and it lasts a lifetime. it is not monday-friday, 9-5. there is no time clock. we are students of our own hearts. don't ignore this. don't fight it either. and every day there are lessons. pay attention.

you want solitude? run. do something wonderful for yourself. sit down with something you love, a person or a book. say "thank you." let yourself feel the joy that is surrounding you.

you want warmth? call your best friend or your mom. give yourself a break. look at the email from your beautiful friend in oklahoma who is so good at reminding you to "go easy on yourself, peach." think of the day when you'll finally sit at her kitchen table with your families. think of what a blessing that day will be.

you want a sign? listen to your gut. 

you want grace? be quiet. close your eyes. open them. take a breath and start walking.

you want growth? be brave enough to keep walking.  

this is moving on. this is living. embrace all of it.  the beautiful and the maddening. 

and that call you're hoping to get? use this extra time you've been given to remind yourself that if it's supposed to happen it will. after you've done everything you can do it's out of your hands. you've done everything you can do. you have done everything you can do. 

say another prayer. and another. and instead of sitting and stewing, live. live your life and hope you get called. listen to your gut. it's answering you.

bucket list for fall. so far.

1. burgers, tots, and a trip to the photo booth at skylark.

 

2. pumpkin patch/hayride/apple-picking. 

3. plays, plays, lots of plays! on my calendar so far: this, this, and that one.

4. experience october baseball aka soxtober baseball. it's a good thing i live in bridgeport.

5. find a 5K for October and an 8K for November.

6. depaul basketball and soccer games.

7. lincoln park zoo and the green city market. hello, lovely day.

8. carve a pumpkin and do it well.

9. find a legit, non-lame halloween costume. remember the statue of liberty in eighth grade? yeah, don't do that again.

10. get involved with this. how wonderful.

my chicago: lincoln park.

on love. part one of a million.

i didn't expect it to be so hard to write about falling in love.

i didn't expect to be contacted by a normal man just two days after uploading my profile.

i didn't expect anything to come from giving online dating a try. i didn't expect molly to be right when she said, you never know what good things could come of this.  

all i could think about was every lifetime movie i've ever seen. humor is one of my weapons of defense. this could go so very badly, i said.

ah, but it could go so very well.

it has. 

and those weapons i've always used are starting to get a bit dusty.

i didn't expect that normal guy to turn out to be so much more than just "normal."

i didn't expect to spend 6.5 hours on our first date and fight back tears and the urge to scream across lake michigan, over the sound of boats rocking back and forth and waves crashing, this is amazing! you are so funny and cute and that white linen shirt, i really like it. you're so relaxed. i'm not like that. ever. this night isn't real. is this night real? it can't be real. boy, i hope you kiss me at some point tonight. now would be good.

i don't know when it happened. it. the falling in love part.

i wish i did. i say this like it must have been a specific moment on a specific morning, but that's not the case. the girl who must control every aspect of her life had no control over this one.

thank God for that.

it was slow. it didn't feel rushed. more than that, i didn't rush myself. at some point in the past three months i fully accepted it and settled into it the way you climb into your favorite old chair or slowly slide into a hot bath. you fit.

we fit.

i love this man.

this man who calms my soul. this man who roots for the bears and the cardinals. this man who pulls me closer at night when i turn in my sleep. this man whose kisses make me shake. this man who makes me laugh until i snort and cry. this man who buys me clementines and flowers for no reason. this man who fixes my blinds before breakfast. this man who asks about my fall bucket list and helped me cross things off my summer one. this man who loves his daughter so much it's restored my faith in a number of things. this man who's said, "let me help you. what can i do?" so many times i've stopped counting. this man who said, "you can put more on my plate. more you. i want more of you."

this man who has let me be a part of his life and his daughter's life. this man who takes me to church on sunday mornings and makes cinnamon rolls while we watch "the smurfs" while i say a prayer of thanks. this man whose shoulder i cried on sunday night when i talked about the fears i've been feeling lately. this man who gave me his umbrella this morning. again. this man who listens and remembers and asks questions.

i'm no longer afraid to say these things out loud for fear of "jinxing" them. they are real. not saying these things won't make them less real or less wonderful. say them out loud. put these thoughts and prayers of gratitude into the universe. you're in love. you have a good man in your life. it's okay to say these words out loud.
 

and as i sat next to him on his couch sunday night with his beautiful black lab on the other side of him, crying and admitting ugly things that weigh me down, i thought, this is intimacy. this is hard. but it's what i've been hoping to find: something that fit. 

movies i'm itching to see.

i believe.

the words pumpkin coffee belong together. so do south side and october baseball.

if you find yourself sitting next to a man with whom you can sing the temptations you'd better thank your damn lucky stars.

you should do the same if you have friends who consistently show you how much they support you. 
 
talking baseball with our mailman and chatting with the world's friendliest ups driver are two highlights of my day.

a big, floppy $2.00 hat at the beach is always a good idea. and can now be crossed off this list. 

in making these lists for the other seasons of your life. categorizing is relaxing.

country music is a beautiful thing. haters to the left.
 
in trying to live this.

(via)

on trusting yourself.

listen.

listen harder. listen better, smarter. 

pay attention. to the things that nag and pull on you, the things that keep you from falling asleep, the things that keep coming back: in the shower, while waiting for the train, the bus, an email.

listen to these thoughts and questions. trust that you will find the answers.

trust that the universe will not send you back from where you came. trust that the universe is giving you all of the tools that you need, even if it takes two girlfriends, two dozen emails, and hours in jim's office to believe this.

remind yourself that sitting in front of a blank word document waiting for inspiration to hit so you have something to write about is a waste of time. and you stopped doing that.

stop treating everyone else as if they are more important than you are. remind yourself, this is how a person reaches 300 pounds.

remind yourself, via mantra in the shower or post-it on the wall, you will not get back to that place again. ever. you won’t do it to yourself. even on the days the last thing you want to do is wrap your arms around yourself and show yourself warmth, accept this as truth. 

you are not going back to that place. you will not gain back all of that weight. if you wanted to you could easily eat all the food you want and hide in your apartment and eat your feelings. if you wanted to.

you want the polar opposite of this. you want a life. a full one. and the fact that you label things as heavy and light and full is not lost on you. it's hard for you to let things fall off you.

keep trying.

 

what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? 

remember mary oliver's words and close your eyes. move your fingers across the keyboard. feel the muscles in your fingers wake up. they're ready. you're ready. tell the stories you need to tell. trust that you are getting there, even though you wish it didn't take so long. no one is timing you but yourself. 

stop looking at the clock.

choose to be brave or play it safe. remind yourself that all of this is up to you. 

your life is your own doing. trust that you are going to make something beautiful out of the precious.