Keep Falling

Two Monday’s ago, I woke up at 5 am and took the bag I had packed for a weekend in the Hamptons full of shoes and once worn dresses and re-zipped it.  I grabbed the nearest big blue Ikea bag and tipped my laundry basket into it, watching as the clothes cascaded out of it, like a cotton avalanche. I kissed my boyfriend good-bye as he sleepily slid toward my side of the bed.  I heaved this monstrosity of dirty clothes over my shoulder and lifted my rolling luggage out the front door to the 2011 Subaru Impreza that I share with my little brother. This little silver bullet of a car has almost 150,000 miles on it, smells like my little brothers dirty gym clothes, and in that moment opening up  the car door made me happier than I can even express. I needed a break from Brooklyn, and this sweet little four wheeled wonder was my ticket out. I didn’t worry about the wonky back bumper, or that the check engine light has been on basically since we got it a few months ago.  I just saw the E ZPass …

Accepting the Good, the Bad and the Impossible to Control

I like control. I'm in pretty sure I'm not at all unique in that feeling. I like knowing where my keys are, that my toothbrush will be where I left it, I love when google maps is honest with me and I get to my destination in the amount of time that it promised me. These are the small things that quiet my anxiety and make me feel like I'm not struggling to breathe. If I'm having an internal flip out, I can focus on the fact that my phone is in the correct pocket in my purse and then I'm back at center. 
So I try really bonkerface hard to find that control anywhere I can! I mean ANY WHERE. If that means getting up at 4:45 to work out before a crazy day juuuust so I can cross that shit off my list - I'll do it. Or folding my underoos the way that The KoMari method told me to, thats how I'll spend a Friday night, or if it means getting to the airport 4 hours early because JFK is always crazy to get to, and I have to check a bag and who the fuck knows what might …

I'm on a Diet, but I had Rose and a Cheese Plate for Dinner...

I decided a few months ago that June 1st was going to be my official start to summer. Not just because I could, without judgement, start wearing my white jeans, but because June 1st was when I told myself I would start the season of being kinder to my body.

I am not as nice to my body as I could be. Honestly, sometimes I'm downright mean.  I say unkind things about it in my head (and sometimes out loud to my boyfriend who I am sure REALLY appreciates it!), I don't feed it the right food, I eat for comfort, I drink to giggle, I don't do the exercises I should do in order to make myself into the strong badass human that I want to be. I don't give my body and mind quiet time to rest and meditate, and Lord knows my body and mind could use a goddamned break.

My body does SO many nice things for me! It keeps me healthy, lets me move around in the world, keeps all of my systems going. It takes care of all of that stuff so I can focus on, taking subways, working, being a good…

Scar Tissue That I Wish I Saw

I am not embarrassed to admit it, I am obsessed with my physical therapist. Its true.She knows it, I know it, and now you know it. I have seen a series of physical therapists since I was run over by a truck, but I have never had one as wonderful as Alicia. She is the gem of all gems. 
What makes her so incredible, is not only that she is charming, kind and hilarious, but also that she has shown me how all of the different injuries in the various parts of my body (because there are a lot you guys!) impact each other. She was the first person to talk to me about how my scar tissue, is responsible for pains and strains in other places. To help mobilize the fascia (which, is a thin sheath of fibrous tissue enclosing a muscle or other organ. If you don't think that I looked that definition up on Google, you are dead wrong)  she does something that I hadn’t ever had done before – which is scar therapy. She massages my scars to help to break up the tissue, so that there can be more move…

When You're Scared it Just Means You're About to Do Something Really Brave

Today, I feel super weird. I am closing out my first week of not having a full time job in quite a long time. Truthfully, this is my first full week of not having a full time job in tandem with a side hustle. So, I feel intensely odd.

This weirdness is a funny mix of being confused about how to measure myself when I don't have something to point to and say: I accomplished this thing this week. I was paid for it. I have worth! And wondering what I am going to do now that my life feels like it is truly in my hands.  I can choose what I want to be when I grow up! I can be responsible for my own happiness! I am not going to lie to you, it is awesome, but is also TERRIFYING.
These anxious thoughts keep running through my brain: what if I waste my time? What if I make the wrong decision? What if I squander this opportunity, what if I can't make money doing what I want to do? What if I end up broke and have to move out of my lovely Brooklyn apartment into my parents house in Vermont…

There is No Good Instagram Filter for Crying in the Shower

I was at a party a few weeks ago talking to a friend that I hadn't seen in a while. We were catching up and she said - I feel like I don't even need to ask you how you are doing because according to social media things seem to be going awesome! You have the book, you're going on all of these pretty walks, you are smiling in all of your photos, you're doing these talks!! Everything looks so awesome, so just tell me how fabulous you are doing!" I looked at this sweet friend and I blinked, hard.

Is that how people think my life is going? Jesus, I am really not telling the full story - at all.

"Oh, love bug, the only reason why my life looks so good on social media, is because there is no good Instagram filter for crying in the shower.

She laughed, but then saw that I was serious, and I started to explain to her what had been actually happening over the last few weeks.  My position at the non-profit where I had worked for over 5 years had just been eliminated, so …

Mismatched Moments

Last week I was invited to speak to my friends mom's Book Club in West Hartford, Connecticut. There are barely words for how excited I was about it! First of all, I loved that they had read my book, I love moms, I love the suburbs, and I was pretty confident that there was going to be wine and cheese plate at this event and I LOVE wine and cheese.

I am really lucky because I work virtually, so I can work from anywhere, so I planned to work from a coffee shop in Hartford for the day.  The most  important thing to me was that I wanted to be set up and totally ready to work at 9:00 am. So I got up at 5 so I could take the earliest train into Hartford. I showered, straightened my hair, put on my "I'm an Author" outfit,  and did some basic eyeliner and mascara so I wouldn't creep onto the Amtrak train looking like a sleepy zombie. In the half dark, I rooted around in my sock drawer to find a pair of socks that I could wear under my black boots, and for the life of me …