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"To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped [dead], the world itself is the bad dream. A bad dream. I remembered everything. [...] Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were part of me. They were my landscape."

[TW if you read: The Bell Jar - self-harm, suicidal ideation]

Dear friend,

Two days ago I took a picture of this turtle ^. As I was driving, I was thinking of what I've read about walking. I was planning to walk after getting my sparkling water and oat milk.

I read that, following some sort of hard time or trauma, walking is basically the perfect thing to do. Apparently something about bilateral movement is soothing when your nervous system is keyed up.

I think it's cool that my body knew it needed to walk before my brain did.

---

I was driving to get groceries, scanning for animals and treasures (flowers, clouds, what I call, "leaffervescence," etc.,) as I tend to do. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. A pair of large black birds were shouting and swooping the asphalt I drove over. I was surprised. What were they doing? I crept forward, and they flew away. And then, I saw the little turtle guy. He was frozen on the black ground.

"Are the crows attacking him? Is this their next meal?" I pondered.

Part of me considered for a fleeting moment, allowing nature to, "nature." It reminded me of the safari in Tanzania, when I held my breath as the lioness stalked the warthog. "He won't get pumbaa," our guide mused, laughing. I didn't know who to root for. I imagined the red of death and couldn't bear the thought. But, everyone needs her next meal, after all.

Even my heron friend.

In quick resolution, I pulled my car over and walked to the turtle. I watched him for a moment. He stared back. I quietly told him hello, tucked my palms under his belly, and walked him to the other side. (Yes, I walked in the direction he was facing.) He tucked his head in his shell. I stood back a distance and watched. Eventually he popped his head out and observed me. "I see you," I told him.

He stared me in the eye. I bowed to him.

Then, he started to run, as much as a turtle can. "Smart turtle," I thought.

---

"I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air."

Reading, The Bell Jar, at this time was oddly the perfect thing for me to do. (Thank you, Casey! You recommended this book like, eight years ago.) I don't have television at my place yet, so I have been reading a lot. This is my sixth book so far this year!

I have been thinking a lot about the concept of a glass bell jar. Do I agree with Sylvia Plath? Is it really just a jar you can lift up, and step out from underneath? Is it as simple as looking through the clear, clear glass, and noticing what else is out there?

I myself am not so much of a black-and-white thinker. But, in some sense, I, oddly enough, think this is somewhat true.

When life gets hard, we might spend a lot of time noticing that it is. It makes sense, and we do need to pay attention to the, "things of life." We need to practice life hygiene. We need to address both physical and mental, ama.

We can't ignore our pain; it tends to become a monster the longer we look away. And, we also need to be here, now.

That has become my new mantra this year. So far I have powered through, "No is a complete sentence," "Clarity, presence, and plunge," "You are stardust. Glow, baby." "It's not your job." When I wake up, I use my, "Finch," app, open the blinds, drink water, and tell myself lately, "Be here, now." Then I check, "Start the day with a mantra," off my list.

There are a lot of beautiful things out here. Sometimes it's hard to see out of the bell jar. And, it is clear. It is glass.

When you learn how to see with your own eyes, you actually can see so many beautiful things. I think I will stick a new mantra to my mirror. Something to do with remembering that it is glass, after all. It is clear.

Did it take a lot of work to notice that my bell jar is clear?

Yes. Yes, it did.

Sometimes I think it's really just about being here, now. When you can.

---

I hope that you can see outside of your bell jar, too. The jar can hurt, and you can feel it, and you should. (And, get help if you need to! You know I am all about that -- therapy, medication if needed, self-honesty, mindfulness, asking for help, setting boundaries, educating yourself, opening the blinds, walking, even to the mailbox! See what it feels like to walk for ten minutes, thirty minutes, an hour, why not?) Pain, unfortunately, does tend to need to be experienced.

When I think of pain, I think of some friends.

...I have made a new friend whose pain has to be so sharp right now. I think of you sometimes, and I will remember you on the two big dates happening this month.

...I think of my friend in her new apartment. I hope she is settling in, and that she begins to let herself sleep in the bed.

...I think of the friend who I realized has sky eyes, like blue hydrangeas, and of course, cobalt blue and white ceramic.

...I think of the friend with green eyes, and the slice of brown, who we agreed would know people are looking in her eyes, when they notice.

...I think of my friend with two gray cats, who shared her home when I needed it most. I hope she finds home in her own heart.

...I think of my friend I am not sure where, but I hope he is finding joy.

...I think of the second friend I opened up to, and lost, as a result.

...I think of my friend who is learning how to swim. I hope you swim in the sea.

...I think of my friend who I will swim with on Sunday, with her son, my favorite boy in the whole world.

Pain can be incredibly lonesome. And, if we have love in our lives, we are not ever really alone.

---

So we experience pain. Agony is the pits. It gets (a bit) better with time and love on our side. Remind yourself of this, friend.

And, sometimes, we also need to look up. Look at the stars. We are stardust, baby. We are living constellations, living in a constellation, in the heartbeat of time, imploding and exploding over and over again, and settling, wonderously, into whatever we are, here, now.

Look up to the sky. Float on your back, (yes, you will learn how, my friend! :) ). Let the golden vaporwave glow behind your eyelids, listen to your heart beating; you are still alive after all! Stare at the clouds and find a bunny in them. Listen to birdsong; birds sing when it is safe! (Plus, there is a lot of research out there on the healing power of birdsong!)

Remember to observe the cosmos and remember how small you are. It can be oddly comforting.

I will seek out Jupiter and Venus tonight. An old friend reminded me to notice the stars as well. (Thank you, Keenan!) I am excited because I think, with Mars, I will get to see a triangle in the horizon. The triangle is the strongest shape in nature! (Looking at you, Kelsey and Keaton!)

Maybe you can step outside with me. Look up the sunset time. Find a big patch of open sky. Bring binoculars. Sit on a towel or something. You will see Mercury near where the sun sets. Then, look for Venus and Jupiter right next to each other a bit higher in the sky. Eventually a crescent moon will join the chorus, a few days from now.

And, it's all taking place in the twin constellation, Gemini. Look for two stick figures who appear to be holding hands near Jupiter and Venus, shining extra bright.

---

I have written a lot about cacti and wildflowers. I love those suckers. I love that they learn how to grow, even in a sliver in the pavement, (looking at you, James!), against all odds. They crack into color in defiance.

This is my favorite wildflower.

It reminds me of my sisters. (That's why I took a picture of a bunch of three. The three sisters. "Watch out for those girls. They're wild," some used to say...)

The blanket flower grows everywhere at the beach I grew up visiting. That beach is about the most special place I know. It is holy to me.

We sisters swam every time we went, even in December.

I love that this weed looks like it's on fire. It is beautiful during the golden hour, and it grows in the sand. It grows in the sand!

---

Grow in the sand with me. Don't give up on yourself. See the bell jar, and also, make sure to take some time stepping out from underneath it.

Be here now, for a moment. When you can.

---

I hope to see you, seeing the stars soon. I will be outside tonight, along the water, remembering just how small I really am.

How lucky are we, to get to be here, in this blip of a blip? How odd. All the things that had to land the way they did... one of my friends is convinced that it can't all be random.

---

"Pausing, for a brief breath, on the threshold, I saw the silver-haired doctor who had told me about the rivers and the Pilgrims on my first day, and the pocked, cadaverous face of Miss Huey, and eyes I thought I had recognized over white masks. The eyes and the faces all turned themselves toward me, and guiding myself by them, as by a magical thread, I stepped into the room."

I am finally strong enough to re-enter the, "rat race," that is life. This was probably the most painful blip of pain, in my blip.

But, the migraines are lessening. The sleep is settling. The appetite is appetite-ing.

Again.

The thought-rivers have been re-routed, sometimes a drop at a time. And, I am as close to normal as I guess I ever could be :-P.

I myself am smelling the air outside my glass bell jar, these days. It smells fresh, free, and light. And, guess what? My bell still works; it still rings!

---

Right now as I type, I am listening to music. I made a playlist called, "Over the Rainbow." I am listening to, "Pumpin' Blood." I like remembering that I am still alive. We are still alive, friends.

Soon I will sigh, and close my laptop. I wonder who reads this thing.

Then, I am going on another long, meandering walk. Like Forrest, I will walk until, well, "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go home now."

Then, I might paint, or vacuum, or begin Cloud Atlas. I plan on doing some yoga under the stars tonight.

---

So friend, truth or dare?

Ha!

I choose dare.

I dare you to go outside the bell jar with me tonight. Smell the fresh air. Ring with me, my friends! Meet me outside around 8:30 PM. Don't forget to look up. Tell me if you go! I want to hear from you.

Open up the dang blinds,

and be here, now.

Look up.

With joy, and freedom, and peace, and all the stars in my heart, Outside the bell jar at last,

Love,

Kara

#hope #recovery #friendship #new beginnings #growth #emotional healing #nature photography #healing #year of the horse #the bell jar #sylvia plath

"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music." Nietzche

Ladybug I am driving. I go past the turn to my old elementary school, past the gas station I spent so much time in, past the turn to my Old Friend's home, past the turn to the friend with the red Jeep's home, and straight through the stop sign. The hill goes up and then down, and on the left, I exhale.

I didn't realize I had been holding my breath.

--- I am greeted with a flurry of excitement. There is, "Let me take that for you," "No, no, no," "I insist," "Hey! You're wearing a princess dress!" "Let's hug when we get inside," "Don't mind the mess," (There is none.) "Isn't this where your trash can is?" (Yes.) "This is good lasagna."

I realize as I sit, my poor, ravenous stomach finally full, that we have found our rhythm again. Mama Linda is recollecting, Byron is making quips, and now there is Lily, and Tyler, and Jay, and of course, all along, Chelsea, sitting beside me. I want to drink every single moment in with my eyes, my heart, all of me. I twist and re-twist the white lace napkin in my lap. No words can say how much this home still means to me.

Eventually dishes are cleared and farewells are said, and it is just Chelsea and me, again, after all of these years. Things slow. We sit at a metal table, under the old magnolia tree, now giant with the passage of time. Birdsong is our record, and truth is our melody. We talk like two people who have known each other all our lives. We cry. We remind each other that we are sisters. Chelsea tells me she is proud of me. I tell her how badly I needed to hear that. We hold hands.

The plates Mama Linda gave me are sitting on the table in front of us. As we talk, a ladybug begins to crawl along the edge of the yellow plate. I gently brush it, as if to move it away, but it is stubborn. It continues its stroll. I brush it again. Again it stays. Chelsea and I look at each other. I don't even mention the ladybug. I think of that old story I wrote at eight years old. Speckles and Dot. The ladybug getting unstuck from the spider web she accidentally landed on, and finally finding, at last, her kind.

I lift my finger, and she crawls up, up, high, and she flies away, into the blue sky.

---

Heron

I keep walking, sure to keep my chin lifted, my shoulders square and out of my ears. I have lost my shrunken posture. It took a lot of work.

I walk confidently, careful to slow myself a bit, and listen to the birdsong. I remember so many things as I walk. I feel like my heart is a cup that is overflowing with love and gratitude. Heartbreak and grief. But, mostly, love and gratitude.

When I go to sit and stare out at that beautiful, orange, cleansing water, I see my heron friend on the shoreline, again, searching for his next meal.

Of course I tell him I love him.

---

Tiger Lily

We are driving to a show again. That's how our friendship really began, after all. Maybe that, or running.

"Look!" I point to the orange dotting the whirring greenery beside us. "It's a tiger lily!"

I explain that I can't stop seeing them. I point them out again and again on the trip, even in a vase, in a dimly-lit bar I order a sparkling water at. Tiger lillies everywhere!

"Yea, so, I was surprised. Apparently people don't like tiger lilies. They have really thick, gnarled roots, and get tangled up together in the soil. They're hard to get rid of," I muse.

"I think they're pretty." I concede.

The journey continues, and we are flurries of bags, and walking, and dinner where a waitress pours your water for you, and soon, we are sing-shouting the words, "Can't put you down," "Curse the dirt when it's dead again!" "Burnin' bright on a mountain with Caroline." We begin to dance, touching our feet together, and then introducing laughter and spins. The night evolves to sweaty, ecstatic dance, under a glittering disco ball, a crowd of six, and we don't care. We four laugh hysterically and chase each other around the dance floor. James ties his shirt up, showing his belly. We are dripping sweat, alive, and dancing, at last.

At last!

---

My new friend listens to my babbling; they all do. My friends know I open up slowly, leaf by leaf. They know that nature is my mother. They know how important Mrs. Boland and Mrs. Nelson are to me, and why. They know the power of learning and words in my life.

They know how hungrily I drink their love, and how freely I pour back, my own. Life can be full of suffering and love both, and I find it too short, and myself, too sweet, to hold back.

Remaining sweet can be hard work. I hope, my friends, that you never stop.

Some of them will learn about Alexis, and Will and Chandler. They will know what the Caraways mean to me, they will know how far Melissa and I have run in our lives, and they will know the beauty and frankness that is Grace. They will know the names of Ryan, and Nita, Vanesa, and the love I will always have in my heart for them. I will beg for them to crack their hearts open for me in turn. We will become family.

With time, my friends will learn how hard it was for me to grow. And we will celebrate and grow together, tangled, alive in the dance of life, burning bright orange, leaving a wake of tiger lilies under our feet. When you walk in love, well, you just can't get rid of us that easily.

#hope #recovery #friendship #new beginnings #growth #emotional healing #nature photography #healing #year of the horse #tiger lily #ladybug #heron #dance

Abbiamo le stesse cicatrici, "I have the same scars," Italian.

Wow, people. I am so, so, so tired. I am tired of struggling to eat proper meals. I am tired of having trouble sleeping. I am tired of being too weak to run, and I am tired of grief in all of its many different flavors, I can barely keep them straight.

You know what I'm not tired of, though?

Being honest.

I keep talking about the night I drove here. I was, "crashing out," as the kids say these days. I felt like life punched me in the throat, hard, but damn it, I was being honest with the whole world, and most importantly, myself.

When I left Knoxville at 9:00 PM in the rain that day, I didn't know that I would be sitting here, now, typing in my new bed, in my new room, with the window open, listening to the rain, feeling the way I feel now.

I have had so many triumphs in the last six months. Life has been very hard sometimes, too. I have cried alone for hours, and conversely, cursed the, "stuck," tears that wouldn't fall. But, it has all been worth it.

It all began when I was honest with myself. I believe the honesty started about four years ago or so with, "I drink too much." There were of course, some ways I justified it to myself and others, and I tried to hide how bad it could get. I was ashamed.

Then, I admitted aloud that it was a problem. It was, but I was having trouble figuring out how to stop.

The more I tried, the more I failed, and I tried medicines, so much therapy, and I wasn't sure why I wanted to drink so much, but I did, so I would. I was scaring myself.

I was scaring myself, but I wasn't even admitting it, to myself.

Turns out not acknowledging the truth, doesn't make it any less true.

Eventually I was honest, really honest. It was because I was unhappy. My life was very pretty on the outside. (Perhaps another story for another day, but,) I had convinced myself that this was how it would always be, that this was what life is all about after all, and I didn't realize how. damn. gray. it. was.

I couldn't really tell you how I decided to quit. I think it was because I was starting to let myself, listen to myself. I kept wondering why I wanted to drink so much. I think it was because, in most ways, I was horrifically lonely. It was how I kept my smile on my face and my laughs going. People mostly liked how I was when I was, "Kara who drinks." I was fun.

I was making process in therapy. I let myself wonder.

What if people liked me if I was honest? If I lose this or that friend when I quit drinking, were we really friends, after all? Am I not enough just as I am?

I (literally,) reviewed my past, reading the ten or so notebooks of my writing I have kept since childhood. I realized I had stopped listening to myself a long time ago, but there it was, it was on the page.

Truth.

---

I quit drinking (nearly) two years ago, and six months ago, I listened to the songs I wouldn't let myself listen to again, and I read my diaries, and I felt everything, and I broke, and I sobbed heaving, squealing sobs, but I. am. here. now.

And I am actually the whole-est I have ever been.

I am really here, now. I am not feeling shame, keeping secrets, not recognizing my face in the mirror anymore. I know I am not broken. I love myself; I find myself singing love songs to myself these days.

I am whole. I have always been. I always will be.

I listened to myself, something I had been conditioned my whole lifetime to forget to do, but I Still Remembered. I know why the caged bird sings. I will never forget how to sing, and I will share my song.

I'm out of that cage now.

As for the honesty?

I have plenty of self-honesty now. It's so wild to me what the human brain can do to itself in some ... attempt to protect itself? Denial is a strong drug. Sometimes you can hurt you, trying to not feel pain, or avoiding the truth.

But, friend, maybe we have the same scars. Maybe they are not the same spice, but a similar flavor.

Please be honest with yourself. Life is too short to not be happy; take it from a girl who has seen a lot of things.

PS - Celebrate two years sober with me, in July! Still not drinking. Turns out self-honesty is a hellova drug.

#hope #recovery #friendship #growth #emotional healing #new beginnings #nature photography #healing #year of the horse

The only compass you can rely on is the stubborn pull of what feels true, one step toward what soothes you, one step away from what hurts you, and you will realise the map and the destination have always been you. - May Aygun

I have been having some trouble lately knowing what to write about. A lot of things have happened lately in my life, a lot of them bad, and a lot of them good.

Currently, I am dealing with another migraine, and unfortunately, depression. The good news is, when it comes to depression, I know some, "hacks," that make it a bit less encompassing. It tends to involve wandering in nature, looking for my treasures, and singing back at birds. I think I will go spend some time with my antidote after this post. ***

About a month ago, I got a Phone Call. I wasn't sure if it would be The Phone Call, the one I had been dreading and mentally preparing for, for at least a year. I found out that someone in my life had gotten hurt, was hospitalized, and ultimately now, is recovering. I don't know if she will ever fully recover, and I can't keep using that same old energy hoping for it. I have also learned that there is no way to prepare for a phone call like that, even if you think you have.

The day she got hurt, and didn't tell anyone, she sent a text begging me to tell her what she had done wrong. It had typos, and it slammed into my heart like all the other texts I had asked her to stop sending me, until she was able to tell me why I had chosen to stop having a relationship with her.

I didn't respond. She should already know. ***

The days following the phone call have been a blur. I had to find a way to reach deep inside myself, to, "turn off," the sadness, to turn off feeling anything -- so I could do what I needed to do. I still haven't cried about the situation. I feel like something about this experience has hurt something so deep inside me, that I am having trouble feeling very much at all, even the good things. It's like I can't find the switch; I can't turn the switch back on.

Following the phone call, I scrubbed up messes I never thought I would have to touch. I cooked spaghetti and listened to music while she lay in the other room. She tried to joke, she tried to prod me, and I did not let it touch me. I folded laundry, swept, and retreated to the guest room I promised myself I would never sleep in again. I read a book. My heart hammered the entire time I was in that house. It hammered the whole drive there. I would sigh on my way home, near midnight, and since then, getting out of bed has been much harder.

But, I am still getting out of bed. I am still opening the blinds. ***

I feel like the energy of the fire horse has been burned up. I smile at birds, but it feels like I am in some kind of dream. I guess that's how depression works. Luckily, I have been able to continue therapy, and I am shifting around my antidepressant medication soon. I am hoping that it helps my heart go back, "online."

When I am with the people I care about, I say the joke, I make the laugh, I know the thing is making me happy. But, it feels dulled, muted, farther away, like I am watching myself do it but not fully feeling it.

There is also the strange grief that comes with knowing that the people in my past, the people from Before, they would get it. They would at least say, "Oh, Kara, we know how much you were dreading this day." But, alas, my life has changed since then, and lines have been drawn.

It is frustrating feeling like this, because the good things are very good. The gift of my first bouquet of flowers in my own apartment, the adventure to make trinket frames, playing my favorite game with silly, sweet people. It all seems to touch, but not fully reach into, my heart.

I have walked miles, tried running a bit again, cold plunged several times. I think this is just another one of those things that takes time. When I first moved back here, that was what my sister, Keaton, had told me. She told me, "It's a broken heart, Kara. It will get better with time." ***

So, here I am in the waiting space, again. I am waiting on time. My crumpled little heart has been through so much. I refuse to let it be anything but the soft, sweet thing it was meant to be. I will keep following my compass, toward what soothes, and away from what hurts. I didn't know that healing could hurt so much.

But, it is also full of beauty.

The beauty grows when Mama Caraway invites me over to give me plates for my new home. It grows when I get to pet the beautiful jet black dog, Frankie, and she covers my face with kisses, like I'm the best thing in her life in that moment. The beauty grows when I see a darting blue-tailed skink, or when that sweet soul makes another spicy, yummy dish for me. It grows when Chelsea tells me I can come stay with her again. It grows when I see my nephew laughing with his family. It grows when I follow a blue butterfly on a trail, walking alone, and feeling strong knowing that I know the way.

I know the way. *** This too, shall pass, as the friend with the red Jeep once said. This too, shall pass, and in the meantime, I will still find it. I will find the beauty, I will celebrate it, and when I come back to myself again, I will hug myself so tight. I will know how strong I have been, and I will know that my tenderness is the most special thing about me. My compass will lead me back to myself. I will find that the destination has been here all along, in my own heart.

I will soon go for another long, meandering walk. I will harvest wildflowers again, look at them in their little vase, and thank the Earth for their smiling faces. I will wake up one day soon, and things will not feel dull. I will greet the day, as fully as I can, and softly.

Staying soft takes a lot of strength.

But, if you ask me, it is so worth it.

Until I make it out on the other side, until my heart turns back on, I will open my blinds, and I will search for the beauty, and I will find it. I hope you keep your heart soft, too, my friend. If you're in a waiting place like me, I hope you find the beauty, too. I hope you are patient with yourself, drink water, eat food, and find some grass to touch. The hard things in life can be very hard. And, there is also beauty all around: we just have to go find it.

#recovery #friendship #new beginnings #healing #nature photography #emotional healing #growth #hope

Dear Friend,

I really can't believe it's March. I thought the day would never come when, I wasn't sure what day it was. I am grateful to be here, now.

The night I left in November feels like a lifetime ago. Those days were very long. The nighttime felt like it would never end. I wrote like a woman gone mad, trying to quiet the fire in my mind. Food made me gag, and little things like opening a new bar of soap could bring tears to my eyes. ("Wow, I've been here long enough to need a new bar of soap; this really is real.")

Along the way, a friend said something like, "Oh, yea, but this move you made, I'm sure it was a long process, and you realized slowly over time, and it wasn't some one event..."

And, I said, in a way, no, it was exactly that. It actually was one event. It was me, in my cocoon, burning my old body, regrowing one vein at a time hidden even from myself, rerouting one stream, one river, one synapse at a time. And, it felt like the last synapse clicked. The last crack of the chrysalis formed. It felt almost like, in those movies, where there is someone screaming, and everything is swirling and exploding around them, and usually they're coming into their power. Theyre coming alive.

The day I left, I opened my memory box. I reread my old writing. I reread a letter from an old friend. I heard my gut speak again. I could hear my own voice again. I didn't hear the self-doubt I had soaked in for years. I listened to myself, finally.

I was ready to grab my writing if I needed to, I applied for unemployment, I was ready when I needed to pack the things I would miss in trash bags, and I told my beautiful gray cat I would see him again, and I lied to him. I didn't know it would be a lie. I put my car in reverse, drove through the gate, and kept my eyes forward in the rain. I got to my sister's house at midnight. That was me leaving my old home.

***

And, I still looked for, and found some, sunshine.

I found it in old friends, creating, nature, animals, new friends, music, singing, dancing, writing, henna, walking ... so many places, people, and things. I found it in my heron friend.

I wanted to explain more why that darn heron means so much to me, even though you probably already know.

I had been walking a lot, usually for at least an hour a day. I was lifting weights and gaining muscle. I was feeling strong, (and I have grown stronger still!,) and very, very, terribly lonely.

I thought that was just the way life felt. I thought your brain felt like a place people didn't really care to visit. Why bother? I didn't write, listen to music, dance. But, I still walked and chased the sun. One day on my walk, in the little pond near my old home, I saw him -- my heron friend.

He was in there in the shadows and hard to spot, but I was always looking for birds and other creatures. I sat with him and watched him, and it felt like he watched me, too. I sat criss-cross on the earth, on the other side of the pond, and quietly told him, "Hello! You're beautiful." We bowed our heads at each other. I watched him catch and gulp - you won't believe it - a bright orange fish. (What on earth was that doing in this small pond?!) I watched him miss his catches. I cheered on his next meal. I worried when I didn't see him.

Eventually I worked out that he was hungry and looking for food in the water at a certain time every day. I timed my walks to end when I would see him there. "Hello again!" I would quietly say to him. I was convinced that we would bow to each other. He looked so regal and beautiful, peaceful and wise, as he slowly waded through the water, searching for sustenance.

One day I looked for him and couldn't find him. I had told him goodbye, knowing he would probably leave soon. It was November, and I wasn't sure if he was a migrating bird. I scanned for him, and saw something move in my periphery, and it was him, alight, near our meeting spot, flying, I was convinced, to warmer weather. I said goodbye, thanked him, and told him I loved him.

***

Then I moved back to my old stomping grounds. I felt shattered open and very fragile. I couldn't watch TV or listen to music. Everything made me feel, everything. I decided I needed to, "baptize," or bless my new (old) self -- by doing a cold plunge. I thought it might be the final jolt I needed.

So I took Kelsey on a short walk at one of my favorite places here, where I grew up, and there by the shore, looking at me, was that same species of heron. I bowed to him. He bowed back. I cried. I told him I was happy to see him again. I plunged into the water. I was cold, but I was warm. I was awake again!

I visited my heron friend again, and again, reunited back in the South, timing my walks every day, until he flew off again into the sunset, with two other herons alight by his side.

... So were these all the same heron? Probably not. But, I was so lonely that I was surprised he could see me. I found a friend in a bird, and that friend saved my life in some ways. I found the friend in the letter in the memory box, the friend in the long phone call, the friend trying on sunglasses together, the friend feeding you ramen, the friend reuniting you with your paint set, the friend walking with you. The heron was the first friend of many, and I am meeting so many kind people that sometimes I even forget their names.

And, so, what now? I moved four months ago. What's next?

I'm not sure. I am letting myself dream. I am letting myself feel. Goodness, feeling is so nice! When I wash dishes now, I don't hear anyone's voice but my own. I hear myself telling myself I am doing my best, and that is enough. I know what I think, and I trust my eyes. I am free.

I am free!

"She's so back!" my new friend says.

And you know what?

They're right.

***

Love,

Kara

Dear Friend,

I am not even sure what I'm writing about, because I have been experiencing so much lately. I guess I can start with this: I realized it will be nearly three months since I left the place I used to live. I am starting to feel much more sturdy on my feet, I'm starting to eat like a normal human, and I. am. seeing. so. many. beautiful. things.

I got to go to a concert with a very beautiful group of people, and I finally danced again. I sparkled with them, and they sparkled with me. I felt like I was awake, and myself, and happy. I was shocked to see the time was so late, and I slept well, and I woke early and made coffee. Eventually, I quietly opened the blinds, (of course.)

I have enjoyed what I am learning at my new place of work. I feel a lot of love and gratitude for my students, and I am trying to share calm and order with them. So far they seem to like it. I shared the singing bowl with a small group last week, and one little girl said it was, "the best day ever!"

Of course I've put some gifts from my students on my fridge, little paper hearts and cards. I have a Billy Strings postcard, my smiling cacti magnets, and a picture strip of Grace and me. I feel like I am settling into the day-to-day more, *and* I am not losing momentum. I plan on kicking the crap out of 2026, (in a good way.)

I have been walking, but also running, and I keep running the three miles no matter how tired I am. I am feeling stronger and like the strength of my mind is beginning to equal the strength in my body.

I have been planning for the Chinese Lunar Festival. I have butter coming to room temperature, and I am going to make some more oatmeal raisin cookies. I have oranges, of course. And, I am even going to decorate! I really am enjoying the idea of shedding my old layer of skin, and coming into this year with the determined gallop of an uncaged horse. A fire horse. I plan on getting, "witchy," with it, and including writing down what is no longer serving me on paper slips, and setting them those slips, on fire.

It is raining here, and I have lit candles, and two sleepy little grey creatures sleep at my feet. I am happy. I am listening to music, of course, and I feel joy, and I feel so much gratitude. I am forming new camaraderies that are meaningful and very special to me. I am learning again to be vulnerable occasionally, and every time I see a flying bird, I can't help but wonder if I'm also in the sky.

I feel like I am free finally, and I didn't even realize I was caged. I plan on being very intentional about the year ahead, and I will grab each day like an orange in my fist and consume the day whole. I understand how precious life can be, because mine is very precious to me right now. Man, oh man, my friend. I hope your life is precious to you, too.

Love, Kara

#hope #recovery #friendship #new beginnings #growth #year of the horse #shed your skin #emotional healing #lunar new year #seize the day

Dear Friend,

I have picked up my computer to write, and left it sitting a few times. Life has been, "life-ing," as they say, and although I have a zillion different things I'm thinking and feeling . . . I probably should try to rest soon.

Life has been very busy to me, and it has caught up, and I am sick. I am doing everything I can do take care of myself. (Don't worry; I'm still drinking water, getting sunshine, fresh air, and following my compass! I hope you are, too!) :0)

Being still was made tricky by the fact that, yesterday, my items from where I used to live, arrived.

I knew I would have to get them out. I insisted on doing it alone, even though Kelsey tried. I had to take a lot of breaks, unloading the items from the shipping container. But, I was ready. I knew this day was coming. I even made a playlist for it.

I avoided ice under my feet as I went back and forth, slowly, slowly, and brought my old life, into my new one. I listened to the fiddle, that same violin, I cried mostly tears of joy, laughed, wondered why raisins were included; I read a letter, I put it away, and I realized that ... I'm not even sure how to put it into words.

I realized so truly that I am my own great love. I am the light in my life. I know I keep saying it, but I think it's because I want everyone to know this for themselves, too.

I will never lose this love, and I am so grateful for it. It took a long time to get here. "Hello, nice to meet you. I love me."

It made me think of what my therapist said: "It might be a bad day. But it's *your* bad day."

On this day, I made myself take breaks, drink water, and keep eating. I sang, danced, smiled, and looked in the mirror, and knew the girl I saw.

"There she is!"

I felt the warmth of day on my face; I was here, sharing the same sun with so many people who are dear to me. I took care of myself and took it one breath at a time. One box. One step. Next step. Next step.

And, someone living a few doors down insisted on helping me carry my items to my porch. I finally accepted the help. In letting myself be human, I realized that this person ... was actually my neighbor.

I was very grateful for that small kindness. Life can be full of good things after all.

Tonight I am thinking of something like companionship or camaraderie, new and old, and how grateful I am for the paths I've gotten to share with so many beautiful people all around me, in this walk of life. Experiencing this journey has mostly been beautiful, and sharing this walk seems to be the best part in most ways. I feel like I am awake, full of energy, and already, "setting foot." I'm not sure where I'm going, but I'm going, and maybe I'll see you along the way . . .

Love,

Kara

PS - I have hung my art up. There still seems to be a lot of space. I guess I'll have to make some more. :0)

#hope #friendship #new beginnings #growth #emotional healing #nature photography #year of the horse #journey of life #life journey #life journal

Dear Friend,

I have been so busy lately! Or, at least it seems that way to me, after having such a quiet life for so long. I worked the first week at my new job, I got to be around children again, I finally went to the running club here, I finally hiked again! I have been making new friends and reconnecting with old friends, too.

I am very tired tonight after everything. I am happy, too. I am finding such a bittersweet-ness to this time in my life. I find myself crying tears that are made nearly 50/50 of happiness and of sadness. It feels good to let the sad out, and to let the happy, in.

___

Speaking of running, I always thought running was like riding a bike. I was surprised to get sick during my first two mile run in a while, (at running club, of course!).

The friend running with me was pretty good-natured as I knelt over a bush. My low appetite has been very annoying. I want to run a lot of miles, and food is grossing me out.

But, today, with a different friend, I loved some pizza I ate. The sauce was fresh and a little spicy. We talked about real things together, and the food actually . . . tasted good! I was so happy that the food tasted good again.

___

Grief is a weird little beast. I am making sure to keep filling my gratitude jar with new slips of hope. My compass necklace shines on my neck, and reminds me to follow it -- and I am. I am not keeping my chin down anymore. I am raising it up, defiantly. I dare you to, too.

___

I am happy because I have found a singing bowl, and it was easy to play. I have been playing it when my heart starts to race. It seems to happen out of nowhere sometimes. My therapist said it's normal and instead of trying to figure out why it's happening, to instead remind myself that I will get through it.

We can breathe through a lot of different things.

Speaking of breathing, as I was sitting with my singing bowl, candles lit, I made peace with my Old Friend, being unwilling to meet for a coffee. I whispered to myself, "It's over."

And, then I smiled and whispered to myself, "Which means it's finally begun."

I bet you know I was crying those same kind of tears I talked about earlier.

___

There is a cold front coming in these days. It is bringing wind with it, and possibly some snow.

I made sure to watch it roll on as I walked (again) atop my favorite hill. I saw the soft lake turn into a frenzy of breakers and currents. I let the wind whip me as I stood in my warmest clothes. I greeted the wind and became the wind, with it. I am thinking of it as winds of change.

If it doesn't snow, I will go on my last trip, to a place I once called home. I will get the things I left behind, except for my dear Dorian.

It it does snow, I will go play in it.

I will call some friends.

#dealing with grief #hope #recovery #new beginnings #friendship #growth #emotional healing #nature photography #winds of change

"Friends, all the stuff they took from us, I found it! Remember who you are!"

Dear Friend,

This morning I woke up on a mission. I started with greeting my two little gray cat friends. Grey was sleeping at my feet and jumped off the bed as soon as I opened the blinds. He knew we had things to do.

As I heated the water for my pour-over coffee, I watered my plants, the kitties, and myself :o). I opened the blinds, opened a window, and gave us all some earth, air, and sunshine.

Next, I washed some dishes, swept, dusted, and vacuumed. I knew I would be happy to return to a neat home after my first day of work tomorrow. It made me think of that word I learned when I was studying yoga -- ama.

I think of it like a bi-product of being alive. It's the stuff we have to clean, basically. I have noticed that when I have less, "ama," or gunk or junk in my physical (including mental,) body, I also am neat on the outside. And, the same, vice-versa. When I am intentional about keeping my physical space neat, pleasant, and as a, "sanctuary," of sorts, then I am often doing the same for my body and my mind.

Anyway, I did that stuff while listening to music and singing, of course. I explored new music instead of listening to familiar songs. I plan on going outside and doing some yoga after I finish this post.

I have been looking at pictures I took on my, "photography walk," or, "nature treasure hunt," yesterday. Kelsey and I went together yesterday morning! We went even though it was cloudy and misty out. I tried to hide how excited I was.

As we walked, we talked. It felt comfortable and easy the way it will with someone who knows you about as well as you know yourself. Kelsey and I have called each other, "wombie," and "wombmates," like little weirdos. But, it's true!

She was patient while I squatted to take quick pictures, and we hushed together as we identified songbird calls together on her phone. We spotted two different woodpeckers, I learned that I love the song of the wren, I heard and followed a bluebird, and we heard blue jays yelling, (of course :-P).

We found a trail and decided to wander it. It began to rain.

"Do you mind?" "No, it's okay." "Okay. Well, just so you know, I'm going to think of this like it's a cleansing rain. It's washing away things from my past that no longer serve me." "Okay, cool."

We found an old, old structure and stood inside together and talked about how it's probably haunted. We walked around a beautiful clearing and explored the flora and fauna surrounding us. The soft, warm rain came intermittently. Everything sounded soft and hushed by the infinite clouds. We could hear the clicking, twinkling sound of each drop hitting the earth around us.

Eventually, the rain slowed, and less people were out. It felt like our own place. The walk was nearing its end, and I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

"Kelsey! Look!" I saw a Great Blue Heron flying, alone, into the sky. I scrambled to take a picture, and couldn't get it. I didn't mind. I hadn't seen any herons at the water for a while, so I got to say goodbye as he left.

"You know I don't really believe in signs." "I do." "I know. I like to smile at the message I could get from different things. But, I told you about the painting at Chelsea's, right?

Yea, we were sitting at the kitchen table, and we were eating popcorn together. We were talking. Chelsea's dad asked about you and Keaton. We noticed he forgot something, and we felt it.

We started to get out stuff together to leave. That was when I noticed the water bird painting and asked about it. That was when we both realized that there was a painting, done by Chelsea, of a Great Blue Heron, right above my head where I was sitting, that she had made for her mom. That was when we both just stared at each other. I think she said, 'I can't believe it.'

It's nice to smile about the message you could get from different things."

Besides walking, and thinking about ama, I have also been watching a lot of shows and films that I have been enjoying. I recently watched Wayward, and it made me reflect in a lot of different ways. One scene that really stood out for me was when Abbie walked into the storage room and found everyone's boxed items:

"Friends, all the stuff they took from us, I found it! Remember who you are!"

It made me think about my students' boxes of items, of course. And, it also made me think about my own box of items I have kept over the years. I lugged those diaries, pictures, ticket stubs, little stories I wrote, with me everywhere I went. I treated them like gold, because they were to me. When I pictured a house on fire, I was first grabbing Dorian, and next, trying to come back for my writing.

Once I felt strong enough to read what I wrote, and looked through the letters I was determined to keep, it brought me back to myself. It helped me figure out holes in my memory. It inspired me. It reminded me that I am going after my dreams, even though I forgot. It helped me to remember, to feel gratitude, to acknowledge loss, and to take the next step. Next step. Next step!

One of my favorite songs has always been, "The Things They Can't Take Away." It has no lyrics, just resounding electric guitar, drums, and symbols. It sounds sad, slightly defiant, and triumphant, but I never really understood what the title meant. I think I get it now, more than I ever have.

There are some things we need to hold onto with the tightest fist we can possibly make. It's that light inside you, the you-ness that you are and have always been, something about self-love and self-preservation, being rooted but still flowing. It is knowing that you are inherently good, and you do make a ripple in this life. It is the art you make, the song you sing alone in your car, taking a leap, becoming bubbles in swirling water, feeling that you are flying, wild, and free. It is joy, a deep breath, and loving yourself. If you look into yourself, you will find a lot of love there.

Hold onto it, and don't let it go. These are the things they can't take it away, even if they try.

That's what I'm finding, at least.

"'I had a painting teacher once tell me that the difference between a good painting and a great painting is typically five strokes. And they're usually the five boldest strokes in the painting. The question, of course, is which five strokes?'"

Dear Friend, Today I took things easy. I woke up feeling tired, which makes sense, because I have been much more busy lately. I read a book and some little gray cats came to visit me. As I read, I momentarily thought about how I start my new job next week. I am looking forward to being busy again, and to working with children again. I also looked at a map today. I dreamt about where I would want to live if I could, and I even researched jobs in different areas. I have never done that before!

I make sure to wear my compass necklace everyday, and I find it between my fingers pretty often. It lays near my heart. I like to think it's a nice reminder.

I am finding myself wanting to burn the midnight oil tonight, because I think it may be the last time I can stay up late, writing like this, for a while. I have a feeling I am about to be more busy soon, and I am feeling nervous anticipation. I find myself doing this metaphorical shuffle at moments, caught in an in-between of where I am now and where I've been before. I feel a weird mixture of my instinct and my almost "genetic" self-doubt colliding. My trust in my instincts, is becoming the stronger of the two. One next step at a time.

I realized this on my way to see my friend Grace. I took a particular route with the intention of purposefully driving on old, familiar roads. I was driving to reminisce and sing. As I drove, I would squint at a hill, or see a familiar sign, or a certain type of oat grass blowing in the breeze, and I remembered where I was. I thought, "Oh, I must be around Saluda Dam," or, "Isn't this near Table Rock?" And ... I was right. As I drove, I realized that I don't have a bad sense of direction. I just have not trusted it for a long time.

But, maybe don't ask me for directions, unless you want to hear about a big oak tree or a certain color of house you turn at. I'm going to keep practicing reading maps, don't you worry! :0)

___

I forgot to mention how well I slept at Grace's. I slept the whole night through, and food ... it tasted good again! Thank goodness. It made me think of when Keaton said that things would feel better as time passed. At the time, I couldn't really imagine it. I didn't know grief could make you nearly sick at the thought of eating. But, it's like the friend with the red Jeep said: This too shall pass.

Another part of the trip that I enjoyed was when I was wakened by moonlight shining on my face. When I was little, I loved looking out the window at the moon as often as possible. I loved the quiet night. I would try to keep my eyes open as I glowed in her blue-gold light.

During my visit at Grace's and Robert's, I felt like the moon woke me up to whisper something to me. Just like when I was a child, I tried to keep looking, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. I felt too cozy and at peace. I thought about who else looked at the moon that night. We share the same night sky with a lot of people, after all.

I have been thinking a little bit about how some myths give the moon a feminine form. Something about the moon on those nights in the pink room reminded me of a mother's gentle shushing sound. I thought of the indigo-golden glow of the women I have been surrounding myself with lately.

___ I have a feeling I might write less often, (definitely less than I did in December 2025 at least!) I am thankful for my friends, old and new, that I am hearing from. Thank you to those of you who read what I write. Some of you have reached out and told me kind things about what I write. It means a lot to me. Seriously, thank you.

I have been writing as long as I can think really, in hopes of helping myself, and eventually, in hopes of helping others. Sometimes I think the best thing we can do with grief is make a map as we move through it, and share it with the next person if we can. Help them find their way out, too. But, don't forget your roots. Share, and also self-sustain. Also -- get that rest, water, and fresh air, and sunshine, and follow that good ol' peaceful feeling.

I am looking forward to seeing what, "bold strokes," my painting has one day. I have a feeling I am making one of the biggest, boldest strokes, now.

Thank you for being along for the ride. Here is a silly story young me wrote about my oldest friend, the moon:

Love, Kara

PS - Do you see the bird in the moon picture? I didn't at first, but a new friend pointed it out.

#friendship #emotional healing #growth #nature photography #sisterhood #recovery #hope #new beginnings #healing #dancing in the moonlight

"Love, you're the origin of love"

Dear Friend,

Tonight I am writing after an incredible trip with ... (you guessed it,) an old friend. I am thinking of this time period in my life as a, "Tour de Friends." :-P It's going pretty nicely, if I do say so myself.

I had not seen Grace in some years, and like you will with an old dear friend, it felt like time had not completely passed from the moment I saw her. Everywhere Grace went, a little cutie pie, (pictured Doxen,) scampered by her feet. We quickly found our rhythm talking, and guess what? It was about real things. It was about real things!

It was so wonderful to "meet," who she is now. It was astonishing to see how our paths wandered in a similar direction. I learned a lot too, from being able to see the things Grace has learned.

We did so many fun things that I forget some of what we did. We played darts and pool, sang karaoke, thrift shopped, got Lebanese food, went for walks, rock climbed, played pickle ball, and of course, Grace played the piano. I was happy to see the home that she shared with her husband. It was full of warmth. It felt a lot like a barefoot music garden to me.

The room I stayed in had pink walls, art, and those sweet touches like hand lotion for a guest. One morning I woke up early and did a little sketch with the watercolors Chelsea gave me. I sang a lot at that house. Some nights as I slept, I woke up to the moon shining through my bedroom window. I stared back at her, in awe of her beauty, and even as I tried to keep my eyes open, fell soundly asleep.

So, guess what? I have another root. It grows out of the pink bedroom, out of a brick home in Tennessee, that I stayed in for nearly a week, with a dear old friend.

While I stayed with Grace and her husband, the reality of my situation became more apparent. I found myself around new people and places, and I, "didn't know what to do with my hands," sometimes. In the past, I would have tried to become what I thought other people would like me to be. But, this time, I stuck with just being me. There were times that I wondered if maybe I wasn't someone's, "cup of tea." But then, I didn't care. I didn't care! I just had fun, saw lots of beauty, like an incredible amount, and felt like a firework shooting across the sky. I will continue bouncing and popping along until I find my other streaks of light that are going the same way.

Because guess what? I have realized that the origin of love comes from within. It's you! And I sure do love myself. I make mistakes, I am not perfect, and I love myself.

You might be like, yea, yea, okay, we get it. You're weird, Kara. But, I am saying this in case you need a reminder for yourself. Or maybe you need a roll call. If you, "lost your place in line," I hope you find what I'm finding, now that I am trusting my own eyes. My eyes know what they see. My heart tells me a lot when I let myself feel how it pounds, and who or what it pounds around, and it tells me a lot when I take a deep, happy sigh.

I am finding so much love it makes me cry. I have so much gratitude for so many things. I am finding the inability to find words to convey my feelings because they are too big for the words that I know, at least. I am crying over the cup from Grace with ladybugs on it, and I am trying not to be mushy while Kelsey watches TV with me, and makes tacos for me with one gray cat cuddled up on each of our laps. I am remembering Corinne knowing to ask about Dorian and offering to, "beat some a$*." I am remembering Keaton offering to talk as soon as I said something, I am remembering Chelsea's heron and the popcorn I shared with her again. I am surrounded by a tribe of beautiful, strong women. I am not alone; I never really was; I just didn't see it. I forgot ... I let myself forget.

I am remembering now. I will not forget again. I hear it's the Year of the Horse in the Chinese zodiac. I feel like a wild animal, like a horse, and I am glowing, bursting, and I am about to start running toward something and I'm not going to stop. I don't know where I'm going, but I know I am going the right way, and I am going to run, hard. I am on fire, falling in love with myself, and you'd better watch out. You might want to join me, or I might just bowl you right over! :-P

#hope #growth #recovery #friendship #female empowerment #sisterhood #new beginnings #year of the horse

"Well, oh, it seems you're a lot like me You dug yourself into places You never thought you would be But don't you fret, and don't you mind The only constant is change And you never know what you'll find Yeah, tomorrow I might wake up nice and clean I might [believe the things I never thought I'd see] And this might turn and wind up just the way we'd dreamed And [we] might become the things [we] swore [we'd] always be

Dear Friend,

I am thinking a lot about strength these days. I have felt strong a lot of times, and in a lot of different ways. One time that I felt very strong this year is when I summited Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. We were 19,341 feet in the air, on top of heaven. (Some planes fly at 25,000 feet!)

I knew from the moment I was invited along that I would summit.

I know that sounds arrogant, but I did. I knew I was strong enough already, and would be stronger still. I visualized summiting. I ran, hiked, lifted weights, and imagined it. It was more beautiful than I dreamed. I have realized something in life that I think is so cool and important: I think the "strongest muscle," in the human body is the brain.

___

A long time ago, when I lived here last, I wrote a poem. The poem was inspired by a lady who helped me along the way in life at one point. We talked about thoughts being drops of water. She told me every time we have a certain thought, one drop joins the other, and before you know it, your brain is a maze of rivers, lakes, inlets, and creeks.

We talked about reaching out and seizing the river. We talked about moving it to flow in a different direction, one drop at a time.

___

I have been slowly, painstakingly, and in awe, noticing that my brain has some very strong, very sound rivers. I plucked some of those suckers one drop at a time! I have worked long hours as a waitress, serving food as my stomach rumbled, and I have run hundreds of miles, mostly to get outside of myself, but finally, just forward. I knew that I was strong enough, and I knew how to train, because I made sure my brain was also strong long before we started our hike.

___

Why am I saying this? I am saying it because... your brain is strong, too! All of ours are, and can be. We can climb to the top of the mountain, like one of my friends said, just by taking the next step. We can reroute rivers in our mind, one drop at a time. Just take the next step. Next step. Next step.

___

I also want to acknowledge that this advice is for people who might accidentally, "get in their own way," and isn't blanket life advice. I have many things I am grateful for, including my basic needs being well met. So this brain work I am doing is a type of privilege, and I am grateful for it.

With that being said, sometimes I have messed up. I forgot to treat myself like a good friend. But, I am finding a lot of happiness remembering these things. ...Climbing a mountain one, "next step," at a time. I am appreciating my new, strong rivers and watching them flow. I am enjoying treating myself like my own good friend. Steps I'm Taking to Treat Myself Like a Good Friend:

Notice What Your Body Tells You, and Respond* to it (part 1) This involves a lot, actually! Noticing and responding to my needs became something I accidentally became bad at. Self-care can involve nail polish and candles, definitely. But, self-care also is eating nutritious meals, resting when (or even before I'm over-) tired, making sure I keep moving and exercising. I had to say no to people sometimes and make time for me. Sometimes they didn't like it. Let them not like it. [Also, I really think therapy may be the most influential type of self-care that I have experienced. Some places offer, "sliding scale," payments based on patient income. I know an online therapy that is $65 a session without insurance. Therapy cannot be replaced in my opinion, but doing your own research is helpful too. Loveisrespect.org is a great place to start, and I have lots of favorite books, starting with Nonviolent Communication and happy to give other recommendations. I also am not shy to admit that I take medicine for my brain, and have taken an antidepressant for ten years or so. Not ashamed, and I think the stigma is silly.] I am trying to practice, "self care," or, I don't know, "life hygiene," in a very intentional way lately. For instance, I make my bed every morning, and I go to bed with everything ~ in its spot as possible, as a present for, "tomorrow Kara." These little things add up, and life can be crazy, and sometimes you go to bed with dirty dishes. But, maybe you also watered your plants, flossed, meal prepped, and did laundry, too. Self care can actually just be . . . taking care of yourself. Noticing what you need, and responding. Eventually you'll even anticipate* needs and love how it feels to be taken care of so well ... by yourself.

Notice What Your Body Tells You, (part 2) and Respond* This is different for different people, I think. My nerves are in my heart, throat/voice/shoulders, and hands. I know nerves can be in some people's stomachs too. Certain types of conversations or exchanges make my heart beat in a fast, uncomfortable way. My hands shake sometimes. I have a harder time thinking or talking. I can't remember who said what, and my brain feels fuzzy. -> I am noticing when I feel this, and I am choosing to spend my time around the opposite feeling. I am noticing what my body tells me and responding*. I am responding by moving my body elsewhere.

Reconnect with the Opposite Feeling What is the opposite feeling? What does it feel like when you are calm? What even is calm?! (Just kidding about that last part... kind of.) ... I think of it like the sound of the ocean waves shushing the shore. A deep breath. When you sigh because you're happy and relaxed. Dogs do it sometimes, too. Something like singing a song, carefree, and just being. Finding yourself getting lost in an activity and feeling peace as you do it. Things That Reconnect me with a Calm, Happy, Peaceful Heart: - Sunlight! -> Open the dang blinds! Do it! I dare you. - Walking outside, even if I just start with walking to the mailbox and checking the mail - A run, even if it's only two minutes. If you get curious about three minutes, see what it feels like - Sun salutation yoga or slow flow are personal favorites, but "set the scene," even if it's just moving a plant somewhere or looking at a picture you like - Guided meditations -> The Honest Guys is a good one, or sometimes I listen to Tibetan prayer bowls, or nature-y playlists, (usually with birdsong) - Going, "photography treasure hunting," and taking pictures of beautiful things as I walk around somewhere. Share some, or just look at them and remember what you saw. You'll be surprised what you start to notice. - Sitting with nature with no distractions, and observing. If that's hard, write what you see, or draw what you see, while you observe. Do yoga too maybe. Find your fancy. - Creating!!! -> Writing, painting, doodling, calligraphy, baking cookies from scratch, baking homemade bread, cooking, henna, making bracelets, embroidery - Music -> Listening to music, singing at the top of my lungs, dancing - Just being you, and feeling free I think doing these three things for not so long of a time has made my life have a lot more joy. I think noticing what my body is telling me and responding*, has taught me a lot. I call it my, "due North," "my [golden] compass," when it's related to what they say when they say, "listen to your heart." Maybe for you, your, "flow" is grilling, or fishing, or making pottery. Maybe you feel things in your gut, or your jaw, or between your eyebrows. Who knows?! Go explore with your good friend, yourself. Notice yourself and respond*! Life is too short not to be your own good friend. And go after that good ol' peaceful feeling. Maybe I'll see you along the way. I'll be cheering us both on!

"That the wind, it blows, no matter where you are So hold your place Stay today 'cause [tomorrow's at my door] I'm gonna live 'til I die Until the blurry-eyed worry's gone by"

Dear Friend,

I am writing this late in the evening again, and feeling pretty sleepy. My mind is going, and I am going to try to write until I feel ready to rest.

Tomorrow I will visit with my sister, and I will get to also see her son and husband. I actually talked with my nephew and my sister for a little bit today. Eventually he asked the question I had been worried about. "Where [is he]?"

Keaton and I both told Wyatt that his friend is in Tennessee. "No!" My nephew said.

"I know. You're sad you can't see him. But, look, you have Kara!" "No!"

Eventually my nephew wanted to see his kitty friend, and the conversation moved on. I was proud of Keaton for how she handled that moment. It was one of those moments where you feel a pang; you remember a happy memory. You remember loss. You feel a lot of different things, all at once.

___

After my chat, I made another pour-over coffee and felt like a little wizard at my caldron while it bubbled. I smiled at another bubble smiley face in my coffee, so I figured, why not share it with you?

I spent a large majority of the day trying to draw and paint something. "Unabashed." I would want that to be the name of my book, I think.

___

In the morning, I, "fed," my plants sunlight and checked on their water. I looked at the root of my Monstera propogation. Guess what? She has a tiny baby root growing! Soon she will have many little roots, and I will get to plant her in a big pot. She'll grow a lot more in soil too. And, I'll know how big she grew, even starting as a broken piece.

Looking at that tiny, reaching root, I thought about an old blog post I wrote about brokenness. At one point, many years ago, I believed I was broken, and I made peace with it by imagining myself as a stained-glass picture. Lots of broken pieces, but coming together to form a picture, with light shining through. But, I still don't like that image. I'm not broken. I'm not shards. I'm alive, and I am growing!

I am a Franken-plant! I have a root that practices driving a red Jeep on a warm summer night, a branch that grows from the hearth at a white colonial home near where the BP used to be. I have a leaf that unfurls when it sees the sign for, "Columbia," still another root in the backyard my nephew Wyatt is growing up in. I have a branch floating in the river at, "8 Ball," in Toccoa, and a root that knows, "Golu, golu," means, "little round-y," in Hindi. A piece of me is the yellow, shining Everflower in Tanzania, and still another is a golden sea oat blowing in the wind at Holden Beach.

I know the wind blows, no matter where you are. I'm lucky to have such healthy, deep roots: I can hold my place. And the blurry-eyed worries? They've gone by.

prop·a·ga·tion /ˌpräpəˈɡāSHən/ noun

the breeding of specimens of a plant or animal by natural processes from the parent stock. "the propagation of plants by root cuttings"

the action of widely spreading and promoting an idea, theory, etc., "a life devoted to the propagation of the Catholic faith"

transmission of motion, light, sound, etc. in a particular direction or through a medium. "the propagation of radio waves through space"

Dear You,

I have been pretty busy lately. I hope that you had a great holiday season, and that you got to enjoy the, "real stuff," in life, like deep chats, warmth, and joy. I am thinking of the Christmas I just had with my sister, Kelsey, and her girlfriend. They were both so kind and generous to me, including me in their celebration, and they spoiled me with so many thoughtful presents I had to take some deep breaths while I unwrapped everything. It felt so wonderful to be seen so much, but the thing I wanted most, I already had. I was sharing family and home with them, on one of the coziest holidays of the year. That's the best thing we could ask for, I think.

Of course we also visited with the animals, and the mule leaned against me lovingly while I pet her. That was such a special experience for me; I kept telling her, "I see you in there."

On our way back home, we stopped to see a friend of Kelsey's. I enjoyed sharing company with these other kind souls, and we celebrated Christmas in our own way. Toward the end of the day, Kelsey's friend gave me some propagations from some of her plants, including a Monstera.

I am excited to take care of plants again. Taking care of a plant has always been such a, "holy," experience for me. It reminds me to give myself water and sunshine everyday, too. It also reminds me that we can grow, even if a root is misplaced, or only a small amount of us is still alive. We can grow, as long as we don't give up hope, and we commit to being honest, and take care of ourselves. Add a dash of earth, water, and sunshine, too.

___

Today was an incredible day. It started with me, "blooming," coffee for the first time and finding a smiley face in the brew, (and a smile on my own face!). Kelsey made biscuit gravy and we watched a TV show together. It ended with me doing what I often do -- writing with a lamp on, in a quiet house, to a dear friend. (...Except this time, I have fairy-lights on too, and two gray cats by my feet!)

Today I was a little nervous. I was going to see a friend I had not seen in I'm not sure how many years. As soon as I saw her, she looked and acted almost just like the best friend I knew from all those years ago. It would be hard to summarize the conversation we had, sitting on bleachers, glowing under the golden sun. We cried, apologized, explained, showed how we have grown, and started a conversation about who we are now. After our long talk, I followed Chelsea to her old family home.

As soon as I walked in, I wanted to cry. Some things were different, but so many things were the same. I saw familiar art, family photos, the Christmas tree in the same corner. I saw her mom and dad, (who somehow looked just the same?!) and I felt like a deep breath. I felt like I was at home.

We reminisced and I got to meet Chelsea's children. It was funny how quickly we found the cadence of our usual conversation, so much so that I just started laughing and didn't know how to explain why. There was homemade popcorn, of course, and hugs, and when things slowed down, Chelsea shared her art with me. As we sat at the kitchen table, I squinted at a painting on the wall.

"That's such a great painting! Is it some kind of water bird?" I admired the free brushstrokes, colors, and the movement of the bird.

"Oh... yea. It's actually . . . a blue heron."

Y'all. I almost lost it.

"Yea. I painted it for Mom . . . I almost didn't believe it either," Chelsea said. It was something to that effect. She said it quietly.

I just kind of stared at her and nodded, I think.

___

On the drive home, I drove into the golden sunset. I didn't listen to any music. I cried happy tears as I drove. I know that I will see this friend again soon, and other friends, and I might even make new friends soon. I am going to practice painting in the sketchbook Chelsea gave me tomorrow, I think.

I am listening to Appalchian music with two sleepy gray cats at my feet. My heart is weirdly broken, but broken open, and love is pouring in, and pouring out. I am thinking of my propagations growing in their little glass vases, and soon I will see their beautiful roots start to reach, and reach, ... and how I am finding my sunshine again, and I learned how to fly after all, and my heart is back online, and my roots are growing and connecting with everything around me. Everything is so beautiful I can barely find the words. I feel like everything is golden, and I am finally blossoming, and I can't wait to see how big my flowers become. I bet you could guess that I'm crying. But, they are such happy tears.

"Kara, what's goin' on whichyou?"

When I was in high school, all I wanted was to go somewhere else, anywhere else really. I went to my friend Chelsea's house as often as they would have me, (which was pretty often,) to my friend Grace's to sing and swim, and I always loved talking with my friend Melissa when she picked me up for cross country practice. I cried a lot back then, and I dreamed of going off to college to make my dreams come true ... one day.

I also loved when I would hear it, "tap, tap tap." The sound of mulch being thrown at my window. I loved when I got that phone call: "Kara, we're coming to pick you up."

"But, I don't have permission."

"What the worst that's going to happen?"

I loved spending time with my two friends that I grew up with. I remember one of them, the one who drove the red Jeep, telling me, "I'm sorry your parents are getting divorced," back when I was in the fifth grade. A lot of kids knew about it, but he was the only person who said something to me about it. It meant a lot to me to be seen, on that day especially.

When all of this change began for me a little over a month ago, I asked to talk with the old friend with the red Jeep. It had been years since we had last spoken, and he picked up quickly. I was driving, hands shaking, crying, looking for somewhere, anywhere, to be home for a moment. "Kara, what's goin' on whichyou?" He asked. I cried and told him his voice sounded the same, but different.

He helped me realize I was not quite in my right mind in that moment, like an old friend will. A lot of things from my past finally settled into place, and I was hurting very badly. I was desperate to get my mind to realize that I could leave all of this behind. I wanted to convince myself that it was all really over, and for some reason, I thought seeing Old Friend's face, with new lines, would show me that time had passed. I wasn't that little girl anymore.

Eventually I turned my car around, and I went back to the place I had been living for seven years. The place I was going to was cozy. I tried to talk about what was in my heart, and the last piece I had of it got broken. I realized that this place wasn't home either.

Since then, it feels like a lifetime has passed. I have been blocking my days up in chunks of time, doing everything I can to stay busy and take care of myself. I am so grateful to Keaton and Austin for letting me stay with them while I tried to develop a plan, (even if I showed up near midnight). I am so grateful to Kelsey for giving me a place to stay while I pinch every penny I can and get back on my feet.

When I got to Kelsey's, I saw a place she had been living in, but she didn't seem to believe that it was her home yet. I used a lot of my blocks of time trying to make it cozy. Guess what, Kelsey? It is your home! It's our home. She cooks for me; I wash up afterward. We watch TV together sitting on the same couches we had in high school. We pet her two gray cats and have talks about our past. We laugh and say weird things to each other like we always have. We are learning from each other everyday in different ways, I think. We will be okay.

---

Today I got to spend a lot of time with my old friend, Melissa, and her daughter. It was a beautiful day. It started with her picking me up at my new home, and we took her daughter to a farm nearby.

"Here, hold it like this to feed him." Melissa patiently explained to her daughter. I remembered visiting her at her childhood house and seeing the horses lining the shelves. Now, I got to share this special moment with her, experiencing a mutual love of horses with her daughter. Her daughter giggled and followed some ducks around. I think she may have enjoyed the game of chase more than the ducks did. She just wanted to be their friend! :-P We took a picture together with some sleepy pigs, and pet the farm dogs as the sun shined down on us.

Then, we walked around a town nearby and astonished over the Christmas decorations everywhere. We played together on a playground with her daughter, and we watched how brave she was asking new friends to join her as she played. We finished the day with a visit to Melissa's grandmother, and I enjoyed sitting with three generations of her family. I thought of all the work Melissa has done to sit in that room, the way she was in that moment. We talked a lot and laughed a lot. I had the best time.

At one point Melissa and her daughter had to take a pit stop, and I found myself panicking. It felt like it came out of nowhere. "What if I just blew my life up?" My heart pounded. I felt like I might have an anxiety attack. I did the 4-4-5 breathing technique and kept myself calm. I knew, deep down, that I did not blow my life up. I started it.

The other friend that I spent so much time with, Old Friend, that I have been writing to, told me I couldn't see him. I understand why because I was definitely acting off my rocker when I went to drive to see him. I am glad I slightly came back to my senses when I turned my car around. I didn't realize that in just days I would be packing my life up and moving back, "home." But, I don't need to see him anymore.

I had a dream a couple of nights ago. In the dream, I was back in high school, sitting across from him at a cafeteria table. I said, "I just need to do this," and I finally got rid of the kiss in the right-hand corner of my mouth. Then, I woke up.

I realized that this dream wasn't about what I want now. It was about finally getting some semblance of what I should have been able to get, back then.

Now that I am awake, I am not going to spend my time chasing anyone who doesn't want to see me. I am looking into the future and imagining things like getting even better at baking, (I baked my oatmeal raisin cookies last night, and brownies tonight). I am imagining putting art up all over my home. I am imagining hanging wind-chimes and having my wildflower garden. I am imagining one day, far into the future, getting married, and if time allows, finally meeting the daughter I worked so hard for, (but also for myself). I know that I will be happy, and someone will be happy to marry me.

But, of course, that will be a long time from now. For now, I will keep enjoying my own company, and reconnecting with these dear friends of mine that know about the road I have walked to be here, now. I plan on sharing more of my writing, starting from when I was young. I will say it: I have been a good writer for a long time. I realized that as I read through my diaries. I will, one day, meet someone who is just as excited to read it, as I am to write it.

I looked up how to get published today for the first time ever. Maybe one day I will finally see my name on the spine of a book. Maybe one day, you, Old Friend, will see the spine, and you will know what the car ride to see you was really about. And, even if you don't, I don't really care.

I am living for me now.

"You sound different. More sure of yourself. I can hear it in your voice."

Dearest You,

I was talking on the phone with one of my best friends, Fátima, and she said this to me. I bet you can guess what I did. She said she couldn't explain what the difference was, but I think what she was saying is this: I am losing the falter in my voice. I have spent so much time doing a side-step, "a brilliant dance," appeasing, faltering for the right words to avoid breaking shells under my feet.

Now that she has pointed it out, I can hear it too. I am hearing strength and self-trust in my voice now. I'm excited for when that voice, is my inner voice again. Right now, my inner voice says, "God*%@$ it, Kara!" every time I am clumsy or forgetful. The voice doesn't acknowledge dinner cooked, a candle lit, music playing, a spotless house, laundry done, and a loving person welcoming you home.

It points out only that the pair of socks is in the wrong place, or the pot is stirred wrong, or mocks the movie I want to watch. I am looking forward to not listening for a certain kind of exhale when I ask to share what I wrote, or the voice being exasperated when I ask for kind words. I understand more than ever what I deserve.

There are times that I begin to mourn what I have stepped away from. I guess that is natural. But, this is not my first rodeo. I already made a list of what made me feel big, and what made me feel small. I bet you can guess which list was longer. I look at it if I need a reminder, but I haven't had to look at it much the past few weeks.

If you are ever in a position like mine, make that list and keep it somewhere safe. Feeling lonely isn't fun, but the only thing worse than feeling lonely, is when you are alone with someone sitting right next to you.

My friend Grace told me that it is the year of the Wood Snake in the Chinese zodiac. It is supposed to be a time of wisdom, growth, and shedding old skin. I think these sorts of things are fun to think about, and I can't help but think that I have shed my old skin. Something about my cold plunge, I made sure to wash up with lavender soap beforehand, because I knew that after the plunge, I would be coming out new. That's what I told myself anyway.

It is funny and strange to think that handwritten letters on a page, notes in a song, or even thinking about trees, has led me to this new life I am starting.

What have I learned from trees? I have always been fascinated by trees and what I can see happening with them above ground. I see birds, squirrels, chipmunks, humans all enjoying its sheltering arms. But, I didn't understand the, (in my opinion,) most special part of the tree is hidden underneath our feet. The root system of a tree is part of a whole underground network, roots connecting with roots of other trees, and even tiny fungal strands weaving from tree to tree.

An old tree, some may call it a Grandmother tree, will share water with its saplings via its root system. It will share glucose with fungi, for things like like nitrogen in return. And, somehow, without us hearing a thing, the tree gives no more than it has, and it takes no more from its neighbor than what he can give in return. A tree can stay alive for tens of human lifetimes if we just leave her alone and let her grow.

I have always placed my hands on the trunk of a tree as a way of showing my love for her. But, now, I find myself staring at the roots, in awe of what has been growing in secret beneath my feet. The tree is wise; it lives in balance, without harm to others, nor to herself.

I am going to take a page out of the book of the tree.

Besides this time being scary, sad, and exciting, it has been very special sharing this time with my sisters. I never thought I would be able to live with either of them again. Right now, living with Kelsey, I feel like we finally get to be the friends we never quite got to be growing up. She has been offering things like bringing me lunch in case I am lonely, and I have been insisting that she take some time to rest too, so that I can practice being alone. I know that I am about to spend a fair amount of time by myself, in my own place, in the future, and I want to keep getting stronger. I think we are learning about balance from each other, and reclaiming something that we never really should have had to lose in the first place.

I still find myself thinking about the Old Friend that I was writing to, but now with a more practical lens. I get that it has been over ten years, and at this point, we are strangers in most ways. I am grateful for the time that we weren't strangers. I have been thinking about reasons, seasons, and lifetimes, and I am realizing that love never really goes away.

When I was going through my old diaries, I saw my dream written over and over. "I want to be an artist. I want to teach children art." Look! Here I am making my dreams come true, and I didn't even realize it. I am so excited to dance around with these kids again, exclaiming, "Look at what your hands can do! Look how special this is!" while we create art together. I am excited for the things they will teach me, (they always do,) and for the little flowers, pictures, and hugs they will give me. I am excited to be able to let them know that out here in this great big world, there is someone who sees them and loves them.

I am about a month into all this newness, and while I think staying present is what the goal is, I am looking forward to the future for the first time in a while. I feel like I am moving again, not waiting for anyone else anymore. I am excited to write posts about visits with these people from my past that know me so well, and for the new friendships and adventures I will go on. I will take an adventure five minutes down the road with real conversation, vulnerability, and shared joy over any trip abroad. I think my life is about to get very beautiful, and I am excited to share it with you.

I also am excited to see the beauty in your life. I hope that something about this experience that I am sharing with you, resonates somewhere. I am excited to be a helped person, who helps others. But, don't worry, I won't forget the lesson of the tree. I won't put on my old, small, tired, shrinking skin again. Letting go of old roles has been such an incredible experience for me.

If you are in a similar spot in any way, please, take the plunge. Shed the skin. Read the book. (I have lots of recommendations!) Go to the therapy. Rip off the band-aid. Join me in my dance of self-empowerment, self-love, and self-discovery. You don't have to be small; you can be so big you surprise even yourself.

I think one day, Old Friend, when you see me again, you won't believe your eyes.

Oh, and guess what else? I saw my heron friend again today. I didn't tell him I got his message this time. I told him I listened to it. Self-reliance, wisdom, and transformation. Let's go, life. I am ready for you.

Hello Bird of my Feather,

I have been talking a lot about compasses and finding my direction lately. For the longest time, my daughter was my compass. Everything I did, everything I tried to teach myself, I did for her. I taught myself how to breathe, talk, rest, eat, and be for her. I even imagined talking to her in my head. I practiced how I would explain things to her if she asked why, I imagined telling her how proud I was of her, or telling her what I loved about her. I imagined what her name would be and how ready I would be to take care of her one day.

As time went on, I lost her along the way. I am realizing that maybe all of this learning I did was not for her, but was actually for, "little me," after all. I have made all these posts writing to an old friend that I lost over the years, but I am realizing that I am actually my old friend, that I have lost over the years. I'm getting me back, and I will not let go.

It's pretty cool to meet yourself again, and to see how worthy of love you are, just as you are. I am reconnecting with the things that have always given me light. I have been painting again, (although I do have to admit that the hummingbird is a paint-by-number! :-P), going on long walks, watching films, listening to songs and belting them with all of my little heart. I have been talking to animals, crying happy tears, and following my gut for the first time in too long. I also was able to eat seconds for the first time in weeks today! Was it just buttered noodles? Yes. But, it was still a victory in my book.

I have found myself pausing when doing chores to do something differently, anticipating a correction, and realizing that I am my own keeper now. I feel so free, a little bit alone, and it is a little scary, but I know with time it will become more normal, and soon my hands will move all on their own again. Soon I will hear only my voice in my head, and it will not be critical anymore.

I guess I am realizing that we come onto this earth alone, and that is how we will leave it. We are our own company in this walk of life. But, when we are not alone, our relationships are a reflection of ourselves. A friend from high school offered a sort of litmus test that really spoke to me. She said that our closest relationships are a reflection of our own self-love. And, I think that in this time we have, we have to be in love with ourselves. We won't accept less than we deserve if we love ourselves, and know our worth. I didn't realize that I had lost a sense of self, or a sense of my own worth over the years, but I feel like I have stepped off the hamster wheel. I am falling in love with myself again, one day at a time. I'm reconnecting with the light that I was born with, the light we are all born with.

It also helps that I have these wonderful old friends reaching out to me. I am excited to see my friend Melissa this Sunday. We are supposed to go on an adventure with her four-year-old daughter. Following Christmas, I get to see Chelsea and her parents, and her family for the first time in I'm not sure how many years. I have a feeling I could cry just pulling up to their house, a place that always felt so warm to me. I will get to see my friend Corinne and play games with her again, and I will get to see my high school friend Grace and hopefully sing some karaoke with her again. I can't believe I slipped so far away from myself that I stopped seeing the friend in these people. I guess it can happen easier than you might think, especially if you've walked a path like mine.

It's odd, because this is a mixture of one of the saddest times of my life, mixed with so much gratitude. I am wearing my compass necklace again, and when I touch it, I will remember that I know the way. Your heart, your gut -- they know the way.

Children are born with some sense of that way. They cry when they need help, and they are happy when someone is kind, and they are sad when someone is unfair. As life goes on, I think that light that they are born with can be dimmed. But, all it takes is one person to see your light and remind you that it's there. I am grateful to have more than one person like that right now, and many wonderful teachers who reminded me of my light along the way. I have a posse of strong women who are showing up for me even when I haven't been as present as I should be, for a while. I am so thankful.

I am also grateful for the kind strangers I have encountered lately. I'm not sure if I have a stamp on my forehead that says, "Handle with Care," or what, but I have been appreciating small kindnesses so much more now. A man offered me his buggy at Aldi, a lady called me, "love," and I saw a college-aged student quietly picking up trash on the side of the road, seemingly for no other reason than to let nature be the beautiful thing it's meant to be. Sometimes I look at people and think about how cute we little humans can be. I think these kinds of people are still in touch with their light.

I am also thinking of a new expression that I read recently: "Helped people, help people." Even Mr. Rogers talked about, in the midst of chaos, look for the helpers; you will find them. I am getting so much help these days, and it makes me excited to continue to pass the baton when/if it's my turn. I want to thank you, friend for being there, for reading, for caring about what I have to say. Thank you for caring about the art I try to make and share with you. It really does come from my heart.

Being a wallflower can be hard because you see so much, feel so much, and sometimes you wonder if you should shut your eyes to make it stop. Sometimes, as you decorate a wall with your own body, you can feel so far away. I remember when I read the book that this blog is named after. The teacher kept telling Charlie to, "participate." I didn't quite understand what that meant at the time, but I think I do now. I have been growing increasingly wary of people with time, but there are so many lovely humans on this earth. I want to start participating again. I want to peep out of my little hole and try again. There are so many wonderful things to do and see in this lifetime. I'd better go do and see them!

One day, I imagine myself singing and laughing, running with friends, having conversations about real things, and of course, dancing barefoot. I am imagining impromptu swims, movie nights, times spent with my friends and their own children, and all the sweetness that comes with that. Life is pretty beautiful living it, going after the real things. I think it's about time I start to participate. Thank you for being along the ride with me, little bird of my feather. Thank you for sharing your light with me, and for seeing my own, even --especially-- when I didn't see it myself.

I see it now.

#hope #recovery #friendship #new beginnings #emotional healing #growth #healing #birds of a feather #taking flight

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