just write – Page 2

Not goals, just wiser steps

January 6, 2019 By mary Leave a Comment

I follow a few Enneagram accounts on Instagram. Last week, @enneagramandcoffee (a funny-yet-often-times true take on Enneagram numbers) posted the New Year’s Habits of each Enneagram type. I’m not going to rehash the whole post, you can see it here, but for Eights the author wrote we’d say “If you want to change something about yourself, just change it. Why do you need a holiday to do that?”

And I DIED because last January I wrote this post called Starting again right now where I wrote:

I’m just not a big New Year’s resolution person. If I want to make a change, I pretty much just do it that moment or start the next day. I don’t like to talk about making changes, I just make changes. So if I realize I’m eating too much crap and not enough vegetables, I make sure my next meal reflects that realization. If I’m looking at my phone too much, I put my phone down and go do something else. Monday start dates are good, but if it’s not a Monday, I’ll start on a Wednesday afternoon. I think giving yourself the freedom to begin again, in any moment you notice things not going the way you like, is powerful and freeing.

The Enneagram is legit, seriously. (I’m writing more on it this week, so hold tight.)

Soooo, it’s redundant to tell you I don’t really care for New Year’s resolutions. I decided to lose weight in May one year and did it. We realized we needed to get our finances under control one random weekend in 2009 and made a plan for the next pay day.

I think if most people spent half as much energy working toward their goals as they did talking about them, we’d all be living better lives. With that in mind, here’s what I’ve been working on the past few months and what I’m continuing to work on as we move into 2019. (If you LOVE a January resolution, no shame! I’ve got you covered this week as I share five things I’m recommending we all do to have an amazing 2019.)

Trying to drink black coffee.
Please add me to your prayer list. This might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. EVER. I cut out dairy creamer last summer; I’ve been using almond creamer since then, but there’s still more sugar than I need. Right now I’m measuring out the almond creamer for my coffee instead of just dumping it in which is a baby-step in the right direction. I know black coffee would be best for me if I’m going to continue to drink it. But I also like to argue (with myself, no one else cares about this…) that enjoying creamer in my coffee isn’t the end of the world.

There’s a part of me that just knows I need to be adult enough to drink black coffee in a pinch, and I am not yet that person. Again, prayers please.

Some spending changes.
If you follow me on Instagram

, you know I read The Year of Less by Cait Flanders last year, and it changed my life. I came home from fall break (where I read the book) and purged my whole house. I feel like it’s important to say I don’t keep a lot of clutter or overflowing closets in general. I don’t hold onto things for prosperity sake, and I don’t feel attached to many objects. I was, in a lot of ways, Marie Kondo’ing before it became a sensation. Maybe I’m Japanese. Who knows.

But reading The Year of Less challenged me in new ways. Like it was okay to have empty closets and cabinets, just because I had stuff to fill them didn’t mean it was stuff I needed to have around. Like how purging often was great, but if I kept shopping or bringing more things into my house, I might have been missing the point. Like how so many of my coping mechanisms have some relationship with buying/shopping/spending.

As I emptied my house this fall, I knew 2019 was going to be different. We were getting rid of things, but also deciding to live with less things. We were emptying closets and purposefully trying to not fill them back up. We were deciding to tighten our budget, not to be able to shop more, but to save and travel more.

On December 26th, I un-followed some accounts on social media that encouraged me to spend money or buy things because “the deal was just too good to pass up!” I sat down to meal plan for the coming week, not just randomly buying things at the grocery as long as it was within the budget, because I know we have more than enough money each week for groceries but I still tend to spend more than is allotted. I took the credit card out of my wallet. I told Chris I wasn’t buying any new books for twelve months. (Again, prayers are appreciated. More on that on Wednesday; this one is going to hurt more than black coffee.) We’re starting a full-scale kitchen remodel on Saturday, but I’m going to try my very best to not eat out in January or February. We’re taking a few months off from buying non-essentials off Amazon (Water filter? Yes. Another pair of yoga pants? Nope.)

November and December always make me feel a little crazy with spending; we have to buy so many presents, our grocery bills go up because of food for parties and dinners, we spend more on gas as we run all over Indy. After the last gift is opened, I feel ready for a reset, for a tightening of the budget belt. I’m excited to see how much we can actually live on and how much we can save. (Plus, spring break is just a few months away, and if we want to go anywhere, we need to start saving now.)

In December I read this tweet:
Show me your receipts, your text messages, your gas mileage, your online history, a record of your daily doings, and, just to get things started, a transcript of the words you’ve spoken aloud in the course of a single day, and we’ll begin to get a picture of your religion. (source)

And that, my friends, is changing a lot of things for 2019, not just my finances and my coffee.

2019: I’m excited and terrified of you. But mostly excited.

*DISCLOSURE: Affiliate links used.

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Love podcasts? May I suggest you listen to the Not Terrible Podcast? My friend Jess and I co-host a weekly show where we discuss hard stories with hope and humor. I’d love for you to listen and subscribe.

Thanks for the lines, 2018.

December 31, 2018 By mary Leave a Comment

How much longer will this last?

Maybe another year, my counselor responded, but don’t quote me on that.

I’m one-hundred percent quoting her on that. Because when I started the work toward healthy relationships and safe boundaries with people, I felt like it shouldn’t take that long. A few months maybe? Just a couple uncomfortable conversations? But things are always easier said than done and deciding to change your life takes time.

2018 was a reckoning. I would be lying if I said I saw it coming, but hindsight tells me when you get healthy, you lose a lot of people. Some people don’t want health. Some people don’t want the work of safe relationships. I can’t force anyone to do anything and stepping back to understand where my lines are made lots of things clearer.

Henry Cloud says, “Those people in our lives who can respect our boundaries will love our wills, our opinions, our separateness. Those who can’t respect our boundaries are telling us that they don’t love our nos. They only love our yeses, our compliance. ‘I only like it when you do what I want.'”

I’m leaving a lot of things behind in 2018. It feels odd to say 2018 was one of the best years I’ve had in a long time because I could write a novel about all the hard things that happened. Last time I met with my counselor I asked her to help me process the guilt I have over not being sad about things people think I should be sad about.

You’ve developed healthy boundaries for things that aren’t your responsibility, she explained. It’s a good thing.

So much of this year felt chaotic, but I never got lost in it. I could see it from a safe distance, reach out a hand if someone asked for help, but not get swept up in the destruction. What a novel, peaceful way to live. It’s cozy and safe here, I think I’ll stay.

I still have people pushing back against boundaries.

I told a friend I knew she was living a lie and I couldn’t engage in the life she was pretending to have with me. Within a few weeks, she managed to tell me I was an unsafe person and she stopped being friends with me. I didn’t realize how much chaos she created until it was gone and things felt calm and quiet. She was always bringing her problems and victimhood to me and I fell for it. Now with some distance, I can see it was always her–not everyone else–she was the instigator, the liar, the fake. I wish her mental health and honesty in all parts of her life, but I don’t wish her back.

We had a family member try to manipulate Chris back into a situation he’d realized was unsafe for his sobriety and when we offered safe alternatives and options, she didn’t return his phone call. It was hard for Chris to realize so many people who pretend to love him still don’t understand what’s going on. I wish people who believe they know what’s best for his life would realize there is grace and mercy in not sharing all the details with those who feel entitled to them. Keeping some things to himself is allowing others to keep their shiny victimhood pins. He’s not interested in explaining himself to people who didn’t keep him safe when it was their job. It’s now his job, and this is how he’s doing it, with honor and respect whether others can see that or not.

At the beginning of my once-a-month therapy session, I barf all these and more on my therapist. She waits patiently while I say all the things I’ve been wrestling/carrying/praying/thinking then she helps me walk through them.

What should I have done differently?
What was underneath that initial reaction?
Was I trying to control something here?
Is this an appropriate boundary? Why does this feel so weird?
How could I do this differently next time?

The longer we do this, the more often she confirms my actions or thoughts–that I’m on the right track, that I’m making the right choices, that I should trust myself more.

But then I ask why we keep having to run these same circles, have these same conversations, fight these same fights.

She tells me it just takes time. People in our lives have to relearn boundaries when they’ve been off. We have to keep showing them, keep reminding others where we’re drawing them now, and they slowly find their new footing or they leave. Those are the options. It happens to every single person, every single relationship. The ones who love us, learn the new boundaries and work to respect them. The ones who need us to be the same person as before, the one they could use or take advantage of, tend to leave. And it takes a few years for all of this to shake out.

I’m coming up on the two year mark of the boundary shake out. I’m starting to see the fruit, starting to feel the peace and calm, and it’s almost scary because is this how healthy people feel all the time?

I had no idea.

I’m leaving 2018 lighter and freer. This year did not go how I planned. It did not go how I would have envisioned. But 2018 gave me glimpses of a life I’ve been longing for for a very long time. 2018 gave me hope and courage and gifts I don’t have the right words for. 2018 was humbling and beautiful and real.

I’m walking into 2019 hopeful and giddy. This life? This work? This world? There are so much God-glimpses in it, and I feel like my eyes are just finally starting to open. I’m baby-stepping into the new year with a kick in my step and a pocket full of expectancy. I know it will be hard. I know it will be wonderful. I know my God is already there, and I’m ready to see what He’s going to do.

Happy New Year, friends.

Love podcasts? May I suggest you listen to the Not Terrible Podcast? My friend Jess and I co-host a weekly show where we discuss hard stories with hope and humor. I’d love for you to listen and subscribe.

Christmas + Recovery

December 4, 2018 By mary Leave a Comment

As the holidays rolled around last year, Chris was baby-stepping the first days of sobriety. He had completed treatment and was living in a halfway house with limited time at home. When Thanksgiving rolled around, he was allowed–for the first time–to spend the night at our house. Before that, he had only been granted an eight hour visit one day a week.

He was easing back into the real world with all the freedoms that entailed but with better boundaries and different eyes.

The holiday season is overflowing with parties, dinners, dates with out-of-town friends, and family gatherings that center around alcohol. Even if you’re not one to drink or you come from a family of non-drinkers, everyone is around more alcohol this time of year.

And that means the holidays are really hard and really dangerous for a lot of people, especially those in early sobriety. Family dynamics, social settings, stress, and peer pressure are ever-present triggers exacerbated in December.

So what do we do? What do we do if we’re in early sobriety and gearing up for the season? What do we do if we’re trying to support those in early sobriety? What do we do if we will be around a loved one who struggles with alcohol?

First of all, thanks for asking. Pretending this doesn’t exist only hurts ourselves and the people we love; talking about situations before they become a reality sets everyone up for success.

You might have to skip some events.
You know which events I’m talking about. I don’t even need to point this one out. Christmas party with the open bar? Might be too tempting. Night at the bar with college friends? Might not be a good time. Listen, I get that it’s hard to miss fun things, and that sounds like the opposite of fun, but this isn’t forever. The more sobriety you have under your belt, the better you’ll be in situations with alcohol, but for now, it might be a bad choice. It’s important to remember that whatever is happening right now in this moment doesn’t mean it’s forever. But if there’s a chance you might slip up, why risk it?

Sometimes a place just isn’t safe. If you’re in early sobriety, the list of places you shouldn’t go might be really long. It won’t always be like this, but for the time being, there is no guilt in skipping something for the sake of sobriety. If you’re the loved one whose party or gathering is being skipped, please chill on the feelings of abandonment and insult. This isn’t forever. Your party probably isn’t even that good. (Just kidding. Maybe.) But if someone is vulnerable and shares they’re not attending something because everything feels too fragile–it’s not about you, so get over yourself.

You might have to ask for new traditions.
Alcoholics love a routine: get home from work, crack up a beer; survive a busy week, drinks on Friday; watching a movie, cold drink in hand. Addict brains thrive on ritual and when you try to do one of your normal habits without the drink, your brain fights against your choice. Fighting against your own brain is hard and, especially in the beginning, you might not win. So don’t tempt yourself with the same places and the same people and the same celebrations you spent years drinking at. People who want you healthy will eagerly change things up and those who don’t eagerly change might not be safe for you anyway.

You might have to let go of some relationships.
Healthy people don’t become alcoholics. Healthy people don’t become addicts. And depending on when these behaviors started, it might be time to remove some family or friends from the inner circle. I know that’s hard and it sounds painful, but some triggers and wounds can’t be handled or healed with a little sobriety. Chris has chosen to remove himself from unhealthy family relationships because they’re too dangerous. This wasn’t easy, but it was also necessary. Through rehab and therapy, it became apparent that some relationships were just too damaged and unsafe. This isn’t a decision he made lightly, and it was met with a lot of uninformed people trying to shame him into changing his mind. People in recovery don’t have to explain their decisions on their way to sobriety. You don’t either.

You might have to make an event alcohol-free.
If you’re trying to love and support someone who struggles with alcohol, someone who is trying to make better choices, please consider making an event alcohol-free. Arguments like “but we always have wine with dinner!” or “he just doesn’t have to drink!” aren’t helpful. If you can’t celebrate a holiday or hold an event without alcohol, maybe spend some time figuring out why that is. I’m not talking about making the company Christmas party dry, but if it’s Christmas Eve and your immediate family can’t gather without everyone drinking, maybe have some honest conversations about what that says about your interactions and level of health. (Remember this post is about helping alcoholics or supporting people who are working on sobriety; this is not a general conversation about healthy, non-alcoholics having a drink with the Christmas ham or while playing games with the grandkids.) If you’ve got tons of excuses as to why this won’t work for the short-term while someone needs extra encouragement to get healthy, I’d look closely at the definition of enabler and see if you can connect some dots.

You might have to take breaks.
Even the healthiest person can’t always tolerate all the cheer and relatives and noise at the holidays. Add in a newly-sober person whose nerve-endings and emotions are frazzled and you’ve got an anxiety party for one. Before you head to the event (or before you host the event), figure out some breaks. Where can you go to get a minute? Who can you be around that won’t ask stupid questions or make awkward small talk? Need a code word or secret handshake to signal it’s time to go? (I’m sorry, that’s not really a legit thing, but if you could create a secret handshake before your next Christmas party and then let me know you did it, I would die of laughter and joy.) But seriously, you know your triggers, you know who gets on your nerves, and you know who’s going to say something dumb you’ll want to punch. Prepare yourself ahead of time so you’re not left with drinking as your only coping strategy.

You might need to find a safe person to be your wingman (wingwoman).
Addictions of every kind thrive in secret shame. If you or someone you know has made shaky first steps to get rid of the shame and share their struggles honestly, they’re telling you they want your support and they trust you. Take this responsibility serious. You’re not in charge of their sobriety. But you can encourage them in places or at times they feel less than confident. It’s an honor to stand by someone who wants better.

You might have to speak up.
Once again for the people in the back: alcoholism loves shame and secrets and guilt, but you get to refuse those things and tell people what’s happening. Not everyone. We all know people who aren’t safe, who could help you justify your behaviors, who enable instead of help. But you don’t have to keep it to yourself either. Let a few co-workers know you’re trying a sober holiday. Tell your cousins you’re working on yourself and want to do it sober. You can say lots of 2018 fluffy things to ward off some pressure and weird looks. You might not have a lot of confidence in yourself, but pretending you got this is half the battle.

If you’re doing this holiday season sober for the first time: I’m so proud of you, and I know you can do it. One moment at a time, one day at a time. Go to meetings every day if you need to. The holidays will be done before you know it and the pride you’ll have from surviving this season is inexplicable. You’ve got this.

If you’re willing to be a safe person for someone in recovery this holiday season: Remember, this is not about you. This isn’t the time to have deep, hard conversations with someone in recovery. Give them space to breathe; changes you make this year aren’t forever, but could help a recovering person feel loved and supported. Don’t make a big deal, don’t put on a show of how great you are. Just do it and move on. Again, it’s not about you.

Love podcasts? May I suggest you listen to the Not Terrible Podcast? My friend Jess and I co-host a weekly show where we discuss hard stories with hope and humor. I’d love for you to listen and subscribe.

Thanks for asking, lemme tell you.

October 23, 2018 By mary 4 Comments

I turned thirty seven last week. We celebrated by going to Disney World like any adult would do.

Actually, the truth is more like it was fall break and we were traveling and it just happened to be my birthday, but pretending it was on purpose sounds fun.

When it’s your birthday and you’re at a Disney park, they give you a pin that announces to everyone it’s your birthday. I lost count of the crew members who wished me a happy birthday, but I would say it was at least thirty of them.

Happy Birthday, Mary!

Happy Birthday!

As someone who enjoys not always being seen, it was a little overwhelming. Especially when half the time, my family doesn’t even get me birthday cards and, more than likely, I have bought my own birthday present (a new green jacket, thanks for asking). I like celebrating others’ birthdays but don’t really care too much to get a lot of attention on my own.

My kid self would be so disappointed in my adult self.

But then my adult self would tell my kid self sometimes I eat candy for dinner, and we’d be cool.

At what point do we as adults get to give up the charade that it was a hard year and instead admit being an adult IN GENERAL is really hard?

Is it thirty seven?

I think it’s thirty seven.

Not that the past year was all bad. There was a lot of magical, beautiful, wonderful things that happened on my last trip around the sun. If I want the good, I have to accept the bad too.

Give and take.

Learn and grow.

Break and heal.

What did I learn this past year? Thanks for asking, lemme tell you.

-I learned that sometimes all you need is a drink of water and a walk around the block to get out of a funk. I learned that sometimes medicine is necessary to shake the funk and that neither of those are bad.

-I learned it’s good to keep a standing appointment with your therapist because just when you think things are calm, just when things feel manageable, BOOM, life says not so fast.

-I saw what happens when your kids get older and they develop personalities and sense of humors independent of you, and it’s just the most enjoyable thing to experience and witness.

-I remembered there’s nothing wrong with mindless, frivolous stories that keep you up all night reading just because they can. Sleep is important, but skipping it occasionally is too.

-I learned that friendships can end and you can grieve them without wanting them back. The end can make you sad but also really, really peaceful.

-I was taught again and again I’m not in charge, I control very little, and I am going to be okay without either of those things.

-I was reminded that my home filled with people I love is still the best place to be.

-I learned forgiving others is right but sometimes it’s about my freedom too.

-I learned that unbalanced relationships–with one person always taking and one person always giving–will eventually topple.

-I’m (still) learning that maybe you can have too many books. Maybe. Check back at thirty eight.

-I learned that boundaries are hard but good. How others react to boundaries tells you how healthy or unhealthy they are; this isn’t yours to change, but you can take note.

-I learned if you don’t know the answer, grace is a good place to start.

-I’m learning that character counts, and it doesn’t lie. We don’t need to fight what others think or say about us because actions always speak louder than words.

-I learned that God is close to the brokenhearted, and His comfort is better than anything else I can find.

-I realized this world is more painful and more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.

-I learned the more grateful you are, the more you have to be grateful for. Gratitude gives you new, better eyes.

-I remembered what deep, peaceful, safe sleep feels like. I didn’t realize it was missing, but I’m glad it’s returned.

-I learned when friends let you in on their healing and hurting, it is the most sacred gift. I was taught how to do this well by others and getting to be on the other side feels holy.

-I learned that to-do lists are comforting, but so is ignoring them.

-I realized a queen-size bed can hold two adults, a seven year old, a nine year old, and a medium-sized dog even though it feels impossible.

September was hard in unexpected ways so as October slowly made its way here, I anticipated it more than normal. Let the leaves turn colors. Bring on the cooler temperature. Usher in the shorter days. Something about the slow dying, the scheduled end to summer and growing felt right to my soul.

I’m walking away from a lot as I begin another year: jobs, security, relationships, routines, answers, comfort for the sake of comfort. I’m excited and expectant of thirty seven. It will be hard and good, sad and beautiful. I hope it includes traveling, writing, my family, new and old friends, lots of laughter, really good food, piles of books, less stuff, and more experiences. I pray it is wrapped in obedience, humility, patience, love, grace, and mercy.

For myself.

For my family.

For you.

Photography by Huff Photography

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Love podcasts? May I suggest you listen to the Not Terrible Podcast? My friend Jess and I co-host a weekly show where we discuss hard stories with hope and humor. I’d love for you to subscribe and listen.

They’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.

October 9, 2018 By mary 1 Comment

It’s October again, and I found myself sitting in southern Indiana in the wood-paneled building surrounded by addicts and alcoholics just like last year.

This time I was there for an AA meeting and not weekly visitation for my husband. We had the girls in tow. The four of us walked in together, and we would be leaving together as well.

The old timers hugged Chris, checked in on him, teased him. A friend admitted he’d slipped and was starting the sobriety count again. People grabbed waters and coffees, and as the meeting began, the girls put their headphones on and turned up their tablets.

AA meetings aren’t for little girls.

There’s a rhythm to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, just like any other meeting you’d attend. There’s an opening script, a call for restarts, a time for sharing milestones. They begin with 24 hours. Anyone starting over? Anyone been sober for 24 hours? And they work their way up.

Chris stood up at the one year call-out and declared his one year of sobriety. His sponsor said some words, and Chris got his one-year coin.

I thought I would cry when this happened, but I didn’t.

The moment passed, and the meeting opened to comments and questions. As the conversation warmed up, a guy spoke up about his fears as he begins to work through step four.

In AA, step four is when the alcoholic makes “a searching and fearless moral inventory of” themselves. This normally involves a lot of time and paper: the recovering alcoholic writes out all his or her moral failings, all the decisions alcohol played a part in, and all the areas of his or her life affected by alcohol.

For an alcoholic, this step is long, exhausting, hard, and painful. Alcohol helped them forget things, but there are still millions of things they can’t forget and until they confess them, they’ll continue to be weighed down by them.

And so the alcoholic writes them down. All of them. As many as he or she can remember.

When you’re done with step four, you move to step five which is “admit to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.”

You have to confess all the shit you’ve done. The shit no one else knows about. The secret shit you’d like to forget. The lies. The stealing. The hurting of others. The deceit. The cheating. The wrecks. The manipulation. The destruction. The things you swore you wouldn’t tell anyone. The things you only did because you thought no one would ever know.

Everything.

Now you can see why someone was anxious and worried about step four. Not drinking is hard. Not drinking while you write down and then say out loud all the very worst things–pages and pages–that you’ve done is hard multiplied by one hundred.

Alcoholics who are trying to do the work know you can’t skim or gloss over this part, because it comes back up and you drink again. You have to get it all out, get it all on paper, and then say it all out loud to move on.

You don’t get the benefits of hard work (in this case: sobriety) unless you actually do the hard work.

Here’s why I’m telling you this: because we’re all carrying things that are destroying us. We might not be driven to drink or to numb with drugs, but we’re all weighed down with secrets and regret and shame and it is one-hundred percent impacting our actions, relationships, families, and conversations.

We don’t get the benefits of hard work (in this case: intimacy, healthy marriages, wisdom, authentic friendship, peace, joy, contentment) unless we do the hard work.

Everybody wants the results but nobody wants to do the work.

One guy joined the conversation to encourage the speaker through his step four wrestling, and then he said when he was working on steps four and five, it destroyed him because he just knew when he said his stuff out loud that “they’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.”

They’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.

If that’s not the most honest and truthful reason people lie, I don’t know what is.

They’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.

I can’t get that out of my head. I can’t get that out of my heart. I can’t make it stop echoing in my ears.

They’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.

That’s it, friends. That’s why we lie and hide and deceive and manipulate and cover up and scheme and destroy. Because if people knew the real us, they’d hate us just as much as we hate ourselves. So we keep digging bigger holes and we keep creating more faces for more people. We keep doing things we would never own up to because we hate who we are and we for sure don’t need other people to hate us too.

But the secret is when alcoholics confess to their sponsors, no one hates them. No one is shocked. No one is even impressed. Because sponsors are alcoholics too. Because sponsors have done their own horrible things. Because sponsors have already done their own hard work. Because sponsors understand the power of saying it out loud and then letting it go.

AA isn’t a religious organization, but if you’re not seeing Jesus in this madness, you’re not paying attention.

AA demands community, honesty, confession, grace, forgiveness, and a changed life. Sometimes the alcoholic has to start over fifty times before he or she gets it right, but each time, AA is there with open arms and a bunch of broken, beautiful people who want to walk with you.

Jesus demands community, honesty, confession, grace, forgiveness, and a changed life. Sometimes Jesus followers have to start over fifty times a day before he or she gets it right, but each time, Jesus is there with open arms and a bunch of other broken, beautiful people who want to walk with you.

The truth is we’re all weighed down by something. We get to wake up every day and continue to carry it which we know will lead to our self-destruction, or we can start the hard work of admitting, asking for forgiveness, and living a better life.

They say after recovering alcoholics complete step five, you can see them almost float out of the room. I don’t think humans can fly, but I think the closest we’ve ever come is when an addict stops carrying the traumas and scars and shame that has controlled them for so long. You can’t describe or imagine that first feeling of freedom after being in bondage for so, so long.

They just float out of the room.

We can do that too. We can float–unashamed and untethered–all we have to do is start the work.