Each day, we’re making sandcastles I know will be washed away. I long for something solid, lasting, strong between us.
I consider the possibility that I’ve been right and wrong my whole life. I was right to want to be beautiful and sexy; I was just wrong to have accepted someone else’s idea of what those words mean.
Grief and pain are like joy and peace; they are not things we should try to snatch from each other. They’re sacred.
Learning how to gracefully accept criticism and compliments is hard, but I’m trying.
I am a child of God, and so is everyone else. We are all on the same side. And so in each new person, I see an invitation to know a new side of God. There are as many sides of him as there are people walking the earth. I think that’s why he keeps making people. He’s not done telling us about himself yet.
Let’s begin at the beginning. It’s our only choice, it turns out.
What can I, as a neighbor, do to help level the playing field?
She pauses and then says: “Maybe, for now, the only right decision is to stop making decisions.
Grief is the receipt we wave in the air that says to the world: Look! Love was once mine. I loved well. Here is my proof that I paid the price.
Because it will be beautiful. That is the truest answer to the question I’ve been asked for so many years.
Every girl must decide whether to be true to herself or true to the world. Every girl must decide whether to settle for adoration or fight for love. There on the bed, in her pigtails and pain, my daughter was me – the little girl I once was, the woman I am now, still struggling to answer the questions: How can I be expansive and free and still be loved? Am I going to be a lady or am I going to be fully human? Do I trust the unfolding and continue to grow, or do I shut all of this down so I fit?
Maybe, for now, the only right decision is to stop making decisions.” She.
I am not what just happened to me, but I might be what I do next.
Be confident because you are a child of God. Be humble because everyone else is too.
We acted out our truth instead of speaking it and everything became a godforsaken mess. But we were just trying to be honest. My.
I’d been angry and ashamed because my marriage was so far from perfect. But perfect just means: works exactly the way it is designed to work. If marriage is an institution designed to nurture the growth of two people – then, in our own broken way, our marriage is perfect.
I must smile as we go down so everyone can drown peacefully.
God deals only with truth and the truth will set you free, but it will hurt so badly first. Sobering up will be like walking toward my own crucifixion.
There is beauty to be found in the pain. Life is brutal, but it’s also beautiful. Life is Brutiful.
I’m stuck in anxiety quicksand: The harder I try to climb my way out, the lower I sink.