life, as of late.

this is how you love yourself, a continuation.

you listen to the voice that tells you, this is no longer good for you, no matter what it is. when you find yourself in a situation that does not feel good, that does not make you feel good, that is enough. take a breath. take another. then let it go. let it go because anything that causes you to feel like this cannot stay. it really is that simple. especially when your life has so much good. and now that you know how to recognize your feelings you're never gonna turn them off. this is how you love yourself.

the abcs of my medicine cabinet.

inspired by this woman, who made this list, i wrote my own. thank you for helping me yet again, audrey. xo

there are a thousand ways to heal ourselves. this is my medicine cabinet.

A. anne lamott. this woman. my word, this woman. this is why. this too. she reminds me it's okay to be flawed.

B. books. now that i'm finally finished with graduate school and revisions i can dive into the ever-growing stack of things i want to read. books are gifts, mini vacations, and therapy, all in one.

c. chocolate, of the dark variety. i don't think an explanation is really needed here.

d. dogs. i love ben's black lab mix sloth, even though he sometimes makes my eyes well up and my skin itch. dogs heal. they sense when you need cuddling and sloth is constantly happy to oblige. even going to my parents' house to see their three dogs instantly makes me relax.

e. eva. this little girl has changed my world in the best possible way. i love being there for all of these special moments in her life: swim lessons, meeting the easter bunny, pajama parties. this girl is magic.

f. flowers. buying myself a cheap bouquet of flowers is one of the fastest ways to a wonderful mood. and it's one way i practice radical self-care.

g. go. movement. being able to move my body is a blessing. feeling the power of my body is another.

h. help. asking for help when i need it is another way i show myself love and self-care. it's also one of the hardest things for me to do. it takes practice. 

i. italy. studying in florence for five weeks six years ago changed my life. i'm working on a piece about it right now. 

j. jogging. jogging, running, sprinting, it makes me feel good to move my body and push myself. i love all of it even when i hate it.

k. kisses. feel so goooood.

l. love. it took me a long time to find it. for and inside myself, and for and with a partner. but i'm here.

m. mary chapin carpenter. similar to anne lamott, i could write for days about my love for this woman and what her music has done for/to me. i built a road trip around seeing her in in kentucky. she's that special to me.

n. nothing. having a day of nothing planned doesn't happen often, but when it does i take full advantage of it. it is crucial to hit the pause, slow, restart buttons in our life and take a personal day.

o. olive oil. i'm like the italian version of my big fat greek wedding in that i think everything is better with olive oil.

p. parks and recreation. i literally feel joy in every part of my body while watching this show. it's hilarious and it's a show with heart. those are hard to find.

q. quiet. i've learned to cherish solitude and slowing down and learning not to fill the silence in my life. quiet is a gift.

r. reflection. taking the time to see where i was, where i am, where i want to be. taking the time to gain perspective.

s.  singing. don't care when or where, i love to sing. and when i do adele i become adele. she's the best.

t. tom hanks. again, i think this is self-explanatory.

u. umbrellas. i'm a big fan of the rain, as long as it's not freezing. it relaxes me. and that's reason enough to love something.

v. voice. finally finding mine is the best thing i've ever done for myself. and sometimes it gets too quiet and sometimes it won't shut up. but i'll never again apologize for using it. my wish is that the whole world finds theirs.

w.  walking. walking heals unlike many other things in this world. i did it in italy, kentucky, new york. and i do it everyday here in chicago. and sometimes i pay enough attention to what's in front of me that i stop listening to music and look deeper at the world.

x. (stealing audrey's move here and going with xpectations. i put a lot on myself and in turn on other people. this rarely works out well. i've learned to do this less and less and one day i will stop.

y. yes. i'm practicing saying this word a whole lot more. feels really good to say it. to say yes to myself even when it's hard.

z. ziploc bags. i love portioning out snacks and packing healthy lunches. another way to practice radical self-care. i take the time for myself. it's taken me a long time to get here, but here i am.

gratitude list.

today i am thankful for...

anyone who shows up on a saturday morning to help me move out of a third floor apartment.
italian bakeries.

doctors who fit me in at the last minute.
nurses. period.

steroids and inhalers.

the women in my life, near and far.
a calendar full of things to look forward to.
this.
the fact that spring will be here soon and with it comes more sun and light and warmth. and hope.
knowing i can press the restart button at any point. 
this.
 

more or less.

i was sitting in my professor's living room last night, in a big and beautiful house in the suburbs, in a big and brown leather chair, in my last class as a graduate student (which is a whole other post which will come on another day. more like a few posts really.) staring at the walls and out the windows and at the sleeping dog on the floor when a few things hit me:

i am so tired that if i closed my eyes right now, the combination of this matilda and this day will do me in.

i love that the quiet of this house is tangible. i feel it wash over me. it's the same quiet i feel saturday nights after we put eva to bed or sunday morning while ben makes pancakes and i stay far away from that pan because if my life depended on it i just could not make a quality pancake. and eva loves her pancakes.

i love this giant, friendly dog that is just milking all the petting and fawning over he's getting.

i want bookshelves like those that start at my waist and go to the ceiling.

i want to fill a home with this many photos and chairs and big, open windows. 

i want to fill a home with life and laughter that cause me to cry the best kinds of ears, the full body full heart ones. 

there is a lot of life here in these four walls. 

i feel so much calm at these steps i'm about to take. more calm and less fear.

i'm choosing to let the happy continue to wash over me.

and this morning, as i changed my address on everything from my bank to magazine subscriptions i was reminded that i'm in the process of doing these things. of making a home with this man and his daughter and happy dog, all of whom i love so much. as we combine things like my audrey hepburn clock with ben's mounted fish all i can do is smile. 

pretty darn blessed. pretty much an understatement, more or less.

what i've learned, from latrease.

i started this day with an email from a dear friend. a woman who never fails to make me laugh and smile just at the thought of her. i met latrease five years ago in a room full of strangers who signed up to do a play about women and their vaginas. and their bodies. and their hearts. she thought i was a jerk because i sat on the side, reading my newspaper with my arms folded. this was my armor: the newspaper, the arms, the silence, all of it. we've laughed and talked about that day many times. we just did it at her baby shower a few weeks ago.

this woman, the angry vagina, who's just about the least angry person i know, is about to become a mama. she has laughed with me on the phone and my kitchen, gone dancing with me to celebrate my birthday, and let me rant and yell in emails and on the phone. this woman, with whom i can sit for two hours and feel like no time has passed. she's one of those friends. i adore this woman. 

in no particular order, these are the things she has taught me:

these are the best years. stop worrying and just live.

playing beyonce at a baby shower is just about the best thing i wish i'd thought of.

laugh at yourself as often as possible, but do it with kindness.

shedding old layers and old feelings is necessary if we want to change. and we can only become better through change.

women have more power than we realize. find that power, own it, don't waste it.

when in doubt go with something that sparkles.

nobody goes to dance clubs before 10:00pm.

you had better wear comfortable shoes at those clubs or you won't feel your toes for two days.

do things that make you feel good, only these things.

pay more attention to the people who say, "i love who you're becoming" and less to the ones who say nothing.

it's amazing the life that happens in five years. i'm so thankful i finally put that newspaper down and said hi. 

why i write, part 1 of infinity.

inspired by this, i wrote the following.

i write, early in the morning before the world around me wakes up. on the bus in the company of strangers. at work, behind a big bustling brown desk. stealing twenty minutes during lunch. after dinner, during a bath, after a bath, after a bottle of wine, while trying to fall asleep. i write because some days it's the only thing that makes me feel like myself. 

i write with mary chapin carpenter in my ears. i become a strong woman by channeling other strong women.

i write because i've always been that person asking why?

i write because it makes me feel good and it makes me feel tired, but it's the best tired because it's one you earn.

i write because the sound of my fingers tapping a keyboard is a comfort, like my mother's voice. 

i write because i found a pink typewriter in an indiana antique store seven years ago and had to have it. 

i write because i've been blessed to have teachers tell me i should and could.

i write to give myself a voice because for too long i didn't. i had no idea how. and then i did and chose not to. those days still pop up. those are good writing days.

i write because it's hard. and some days it's fun, the days it doesn't feel like a job. the days i'm riding the bus and pull out my phone and furiously type notes to myself because i had a thought and God help me if i lose it. the days i scribble on napkins and newspapers when those are the only things in front of me.

words are easily lost. everything gets written down. everything gets saved. the organization comes later.

i write because i love to read. as a child if i wasn't at school or home i was at the library. it was my safe place. i write because i have three library cards, soon to be four.

i write because of anne lamott, william shakespeare, joan didion, anna quindlen, nora ephron, and truman capote. bruce springsteen, e.e. cummings, john lennon, bob marley, billie holiday. i write because i can articulate how i feel every single time i read/hear their words.

i write because i'm in love with the word articulate. 

i write because i remember how i felt reading the things they carried for the first time: i want to do this. i have to do this.

i write because i have a lot on my plate. i want to remember all of it. even the dark parts.

  

i write because jim reminds me i have to. this is why you were born.

i write to feel lighter, less on my heart and shoulders and chest. some days it's the only thing that works.

i write to let go and i write to hold on.

i write to give more of myself to this world that wants more of me and more from me.

i write because i'm angry and because i'm happy. i know what hope feels like, what fear feels like, and i know the feeling of having a grasp on both.  

i write because no matter the time, the day, the place, i'm trying to figure out something. 

my life. 

wanting.

i want more quiet.
i want more prayer.
i want to not be so tired all the time.
i want to be better, infinitely better, at handling my stress.
i want to remember to wear my apron when cooking sunday dinners.
i want to buy more flowers.
i want to not fight so many things.
i want girls and the walking dead to not drive me so crazy. homeland too.
i want bravo shows to exist forever.
i want to read more.
i want to read this on really bad days.
i want less sugar in my coffee and more fruit in my cereal. 
i want to keep my eyes closed while swimming. it helps me relax and focus and breathe.
i want to close my eyes more if doing so makes me feel these things. 
i want to pay attention to when they really must stay open.
i want to keep wearing that one pink lipstick.
i want to floss more.
i want balance.
i want to let things go, especially the ones that become too heavy to bear.
i want to remind myself that laziness does not always equate apathy. often, but not always.
i want to remember to not rub my eyes after putting on mascara.
i want to always want.

sit and spin.

i sit in front of this computer and i think. 

i sit and i think and i stare and i type.

finally.

i sit and i look at the medical forms next to me i need to fill out because i'm changing doctors. i think of the fact that i have ben to list as an emergency contact. i sit and i smile. i think of the three essays i need to revise for my class, the last i will take as a graduate student. i sit and try to think of myself in a way that no longer includes the word student. i think of the essays i had to read for tonight's class and how in one response i wrote, you have not shown us this so you have not earned the right to use it. i think of the fact that in my entire graduate and undergraduate career i can count on one hand the number of bone-deep honest conversations we've had in writing workshops. i think this is bullshit. i think that i haven't been challenged and pushed enough inside these classrooms. i know this to be true, but lord knows i've done enough pushing outside those rooms.

i think of how much time passes while listening to bon iver. and i feel a bit of sadness for anyone who's never gotten lost in justin vernon's voice.

i think of the meeting with my professor i have before class and how i want to say, can we be honest with each other in this class? we have two weeks left. can we just cut the shit and call each other on taking the easy way out and not working hard enough and not going far enough? why must we be so careful all the time? can we talk about the fact that it is painfully obvious that this person forgot about the due date and wrote this essay in an hour and it shows? and that this takes away from my time. my time. 

i am done wasting my time. 
 
i think of the four articles i'm working on for one publication in particular, a publication i'm beyond thankful exists. i think of the people i've emailed asking to be interviewed, the phone calls on my lunch breaks, the editing, and dissecting of notes, the endless revision process. i think of the love i have that this is my calling.

i think of the baby shower i went to for a good friend on saturday and how just five years ago we did a play together. and now she's going to be a mom. 

i think of the friends and cousins having babies and third babies and how much changes when you get caught up in the busy of your life.

i think of the fact that in nineteen days i will live with a man for the first time. and how much this scares and excites me.

i think that i couldn't possibly fit one more thing into this month. it's not enough to finish graduate school, change jobs, and move. i need to add two dozen other things.

i think that the worst thing about me is my absolute inability to get a grasp on the stress in my life.

i sit and i type and i stand up. my life is waiting. everything is waiting.

the order of things.

if you have the ability to love, love yourself first.

-charles bukowski, “how to be a great writer”

what we do next, hopefully with a bit of grace.

i've been thinking about change, mainly because i'm in the middle of a whole lot of it. i've been reading a lot about it, which means people are writing about it, which, at least for me, is how i work things out. 

  i write entirely to find out what i'm thinking, what i'm looking at, what i see and what it means. what i want and what i fear.

-joan didion

when it comes to change, it seems we either want it all at once, on our terms from a bullet-point list with sixty five stipulations on it, or none at all. i won't speak for anyone else, but i know this to be true for myself.

i read this earlier today and it made me smile. and nod. a lot.

sometimes we’re shoved or dragged through the doorway of Change, or awakened abruptly to find the door, the room, maybe the entire house and neighborhood gone.

what’s important, i suppose, is what we do next.
 

the other day i said to jim, this just isn't where i thought i'd be at 28. but i also never asked myself the questions, where did i even want to be? what kind of life did i want to create for myself?

i didn't ask myself questions, any of them.

there's so much i want to be doing. and i'm very impatient, jim.

 

yes, you are, he said. you were kinda hidden for a long, long time. you had so many responsibilities. it's only in the last three years you've started living your own life.

i'm happy as hell for you. i just wish you'd be happy for you. you're always trying to think 3, 4, 5 steps ahead of everything. you've got to stop doing that, rhi. if you keep doing that, you're going to miss the best parts of your life right now. 

change is hard. it's hard because i fear it. and i fear it because it's something i can't control. but i can control certain parts of it: how i react to what's happening around me, which is just about the hardest part. it's everything. i can push it away, kicking and screaming and fuming because i'm afraid. 

or i can take a breath, open my eyes, feel the fear, and jump anyways.

i'm choosing to jump. with eyes and heart wide open.

i believe.

a well-stocked house includes board games, especially scrabble & taboo. 
and peanut butter. always peanut butter.

following retta on twitter is one of the best decisions i've ever made.
an interview with a football player turned writer who happens to be a really interesting and kind human being was just the jump start i needed.
a nice way to spend your lunch hour on a monday is by interviewing a woman who won the pulitzer prize.  
i'm really lucky both of these people said yes. i'm not going to waste them.
die hard may just be my new favorite christmas movie. (not a chance, but it is amazing.)
my girl crush on her is officially out of control. 
if you find  summer shandy beer in march you buy it.  after you yelp in the store.
this man got it right. don't worry, you'll know. and his show is brilliant.