I think overthinking gets a bad rap. As with everything, there’s a balance there. When I was a kid, it was my overthinking that saved me from the highly dysfunctional (and at times dangerous) house I grew up in. My overthinking/imagination would take me to places that were protective and safe. Sure, it can lead […]Read More Over Thinking
I’m learning. I look back now and see how I was raised to give and give and give. It’s that “Good Girl Syndrome” I see many of my generation and tribe were raised to believe about our worth. And while there is absolutely nothing wrong with giving…giving without boundaries makes for a very tired and […]Read More Boundaries
Hank was six years old and Helen was three when we moved into a run-down duplex. I had just enough money for the deposit. I never planned on being a single mom, but that’s just how life played out. A friend gave me their old king-sized waterbed. The kids and I would sleep on that […]Read More The Tie in the Grass
This may not seem like a big deal, but first time I’ve had a license plate other than a North Carolina one. I love this place. Slowly but surely getting connected. Tonight I will be attending a town council meeting. Tomorrow it’s weeding the grounds of the local community health center. Next week it’s dinner […]Read More Coming Home
“Away, away, from men and towns, To the wild wood and the downs, To the silent wilderness, Where the soul need not repress its music.” ~Percy Bysshe ShelleyRead More Soul’s Music
This photo reminds me of a Girls on the Run 5k event I attended in rural Missouri quite a few years ago. Folks were milling around the finish line, high-fiving, laughing when all of a sudden the girls (remember, they are 8, 9, and 10 year olds) began galloping (and slapping their own backsides) as […]Read More Ride a Horse is What You Meant to Say, Right?
You see structures like this everywhere in Marfa. Literally everywhere. The bricks beneath the cracked veneer are exposed. These buildings speak to me. I am the veneer at times clinging to this ageless soul of mine. The ego, the fear, the “what will they think?” But as I age, as do these houses, that veneer […]Read More The Bones of a House