Tag Archives: personal growth

Days of Sheringham: Part 1

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Thursday, November 22, 2018

Once upon a time, not very long ago, a rogue puffin was spotted on the east coast of England, in the county of Norfolk.  This may not sound very exciting to your average person, but to me, learning this was like finding out Big Foot had just moved in down the hall and was going to be my new neighbor.

I adore puffins. Something about them feels magical to me. Shaped like a penguin, but smaller and more colorful, these beautiful creatures bring a smile to my face every time I see one. Seeing one in the wild has become a bit of a bucket-list item for me.  So to arrive in Sheringham and hear that one was seen not far from here just a few months ago, made my heart skip with delight. Far from home and away from its family, this puffin made its way to Norfolk.  It wasn’t supposed to here. It went rogue. Clearly, we are kindred spirits.

Puffin overlooking the ocean while perched

It’s Thanksgiving and I’m thousands of miles away from my family and friends. Needing time to write and reflect, I booked a two week vacation in England. Much like this rogue puffin, I’m not supposed to be here.  I should be back in the US with loved ones, over-indulging on high calorie food and counting my blessings.  But here I am, on the east coast of England, eating fish and chips and indulging in the gluttony of time-spent-alone.

In a world that moves so fast you can barely remember which version of the iPhone is the newest, taking time to yourself is the ultimate luxury – a betrayal to our role as women.  A woman my age should be married with kids, struggling to pay the mortgage and trying the newest fad diet to lose weight. A woman my age should be recently divorced and worried she might never marry again. A woman my age should be wondering if it’s too late to run away and start over as she sits in the waiting room of yet another job interview, in a field of work she hates. A woman my age should be devastated that she’s single or angry that having children and a family isn’t working out like she planned.  A woman my age should have it all figured out and be happy.  That’s a lot of shoulds.

One thing that’s true in all of those statements, in all of those shoulds, is that women (this goes for men too) are not supposed to slow down and evaluate our lives. We should be this and we should be that, but we are never taught that what we really need to do is slow down and breathe.  Slow down and take stock. Slow down and get to know ourselves and figure out if all the shoulds in our life align with what it is we really want for ourselves.  Who is deciding the shoulds?  Is it us or is it them? And if it’s “them,” who gave them the right?

I’m 35 years old and for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m starting to really understand myself.

The majority of my life I’ve felt like a fraud. A failed version of who I’m supposed to be.  Not really sure who I’m meant to be, I’ve gone from one situation to the next, trying to figure it out. It’s only now that I’m starting to get at the truth:  I’m not supposed to be a certain way.  I’m supposed to design my one life to the best of my ability, and squeeze every ounce of joy, pain, loss, and gratitude from each new experience.  I’m meant to feel.

That’s all for now.  To be continued… Part 2.

Yours truly,

Erin Terese

P.S.  Each part in this series is written by whim, not necessarily in chronological order or any order for that matter.  Enjoy!

Super You on the SuperMoon

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There are a lot of articles circulating about the SuperMoon and how to harness the energy for personal growth and the highest self. I don’t follow astrology much, but I can tell you that I personally have a connection with the moon and pay attention to its phases.

Regardless of what you believe, it’s always a good idea to pause and reflect. To contemplate what is working in your life and what is not.  What you want to stop, start and continue.

The past few months have brought about a lot of change in my life.  I had a romance end, a new career opportunity rise to the surface, the illness of a loved one and many loved ones in my life struggling with changes in their own lives.  Any change can trigger past hurt and insecurities, but many changes taking place at once can really put you through the ringer.

This is exactly what happened.

With the help of my therapist, my yoga practice, mindfulness, meditation, journal entries, talking to loved ones and a whole host of other self-care techniques, I have done my very best to process all of this change and look for areas of growth.  What do I want? What is important to me? What would I like to change? And perhaps most importantly, what would I like to release?

moon

Since this SuperMoon is all about release, it’s no shocker that today it has come into sharp focus: I want to release my intense desire to control the outcome. While this serves me in many ways, it also really holds me back and keeps me from experiencing the beauty that is found in letting go.

Now, I cannot promise I won’t be a plotter and a planner, always working toward the next big idea (that’s just who I am), but I can relax into the journey more.

I want to release the need to analyze every situation in my life and what it means, relaxing into the gifts it brings, without always questioning its greater purpose.

I want to release the fear in my heart and lead from a place of love and acceptance.

I want to release the idea that I am anything less than completely whole.

I want to release the belief that I know best and live from a more humble place.

I want to release the fear of failure and judgment and pursue the life of my dreams without hesitation.

I want to live fully, with an open heart, an open mind and to love with a sense of wild abandon.

What would you like to release?

Your truly,

Erin Terese

 

 

The Growing Process

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How long has it been? Nine years?  Thirty-four years? Maybe a thousand glasses of wine, two thousand miles of coastal exploration and fifteen gallons of tears? Who knows.

However you choose to measure it, what’s most surprising to me is the cyclical nature of growth.

I’ve been analytical for as long as I can remember.  My loving mother spent many a nights with me as a child, listening to me vent, helping me talk through my confusion, stifling a smile or laugh or look of horror as I explored the corners of my mind.

I have always been curious.  But it was about nine years ago that I was brought to my knees and was forced to look at the world with new eyes.  Forced to see how my choices, my view of the world and the people I choose as my tribe impact every facet of my life.

We want to believe that once we learn a lesson, we can check it off the list and move forward. Ah-ha! I have learned to have patience.  I was patient in that situation, therefore I am now a patient person… check, check, check.

Sadly, this is not how this works. It is not that easy.

All of our lessons and areas for growth will loop back around.  We will be confronted with choices and situations that will make us rise to the occasion again and again.

Can you be patient in this situation? Can you be loving in that situation? Can you show compassion to that person? Can you exercise healthy boundaries now?

Let’s unpack this a little bit more.

For most of my life, communicating my true feelings was not easy for me.  I had so much fear about what people would think, who I might offend, not to mention I often didn’t know how I was feeling.  Years of mindfulness and meditation have helped me understand myself better.  Writing has helped me articulate myself better.  Having hard conversations where I feel like I might throw up or faint, run away or cry, has helped me grow and create better relationships, with both family, friends and lovers.

growth process

But is it ever really easy?  It is ever really done?  Do we ever really know exactly what to say, exactly how to say it, when to say it and what actions will validate our best intention-ed words?

Hell to the no.

We try. We try again and again. And it does get a little bit easier. You learn that you can and will survive these scary situations, but it doesn’t mean you enjoy it or that you don’t mess up.

The same can be said for confidence, worthiness, self-care, mindfulness, authenticity, vulnerability, courage… we learn what it is and how to do it. And then we learn it again. And again. And again.

Each time we will be tested differently. Each time we will respond a little bit differently.  Each time will learn a little bit more.

And hopefully along the way, we learn to offer ourselves some compassion. Offer and acknowledge how far we’ve come and how well we are doing. Knowing that we all make mistakes, we all have greatness and we all have so much to learn.

The best thing I can offer myself today (and maybe you can relate) is to cut myself some slack.

We are all doing the best we can. I honestly believe that. We will trip and fall, hurt people and hurt ourselves, impress others and exceed our own expectations, time and time again.

I think what is most important is that we are always true to ourselves.  That we honor our values and uphold our integrity.  This way, we can always hold our head high. And if, er’ when we mess up, we know exactly where to go back to.

We go back to our true self.  The one that wants to love and be loved.  The one whose hopes and dreams pulse through our veins. The one who hears this with their heart.

Yours truly,

Miss Erin Terese

P.S. Happy 11:11 ❤

The Act of Letting Go

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Well, I did it. I released him.  I won’t call it “saying goodbye”, as I had previously written;  I will simply say I released him.

I went to say goodbye.  I walked his ashes down to the water with the intention of saying goodbye, but as the ashes scattered in the wind and drifted down to the waves below, I knew it was just me releasing him, and that he would always be there whenever I wanted to visit and say hello.

A few weeks ago I went on a trip to Europe.  This trip was planned as part of a personal quest to get to know myself. This trip was something I wanted and needed.  Something to push me outside of my comfort zone, test my character and give me the time alone to explore who I am, what I want and where I want to go in my life. And to have some fabulous adventures along the way, of course!

I knew the trip was going to be special. It was not going to be be just an average “holiday”, but rather a turning point. A new chapter.  Perhaps even the beginning of a new story all together.

With this in mind, I knew it was time to let him go. The morning before I boarded my flight to Stockholm, I took the small wooden box containing his ashes down to the water.  With my black leather boots protecting me from from puddles and my polka dot umbrella shielding my face from the rain, I rounded the back of the pier. Luckily there were only a few fisherman out that day, so it didn’t take me long to find a corner to be alone with him.

I stood there in the rain. I had my ear buds in and listened to a sweet, slow melody as I reached into my purse and removed the small box. The wind calmed and the rain slowed to a drizzle. I collapsed the umbrella, resting it against the metal guard rail and held him in both of my hands. Then the tears came. But these were new tears, not the same I had shed for him time and time again.  This time, the tears were letting him go – releasing him. The tears leaked out, rolling down my cheeks, salt kissing my lips and continuing down to pool around my neck.

let-gooooo

I held him tight it my hands. I felt the box, the ridges and grooves where the inscription was carved. I slid back the cover and removed the small packet of ashes.  I snipped the top with a small pair of scissors, looked inside and saw the pale gray dust start to move in the breeze. I held the bag out over the railing, tipped it upside down and watched as he caught the wind and gently floated to the waves.

***

I returned from my trip this past Monday.  It was everything I had hoped it would be and more. Still basking in the glow of time spent reading on the beach in the South of France, meeting a psychic in Amsterdam, meditating with Deepak Chopra in Paris and all of the people I met and realizations I had along the way, I spent this week slowly integrating myself back into daily life, trying to carry with me all that happened while making sense of some of my personal reflections.

Today was the first Saturday in three weeks that I woke up in my own apartment.  Instead of rushing to get out into the world to explore or be productive, I took it slow. I savored the morning, just as I would have if I was on holiday. I declined an invitation to meet up with a friend and opted for a day of solitude, choosing instead to read, write, stretch my legs in the sunshine, take a long afternoon nap and have a quiet night at home.

Outside, the sun beat hot upon my face. San Francisco is known to be overcast, with autumn-like weather the majority of the year.  Today was unusually warm. On a day like today, the water beckons and you must obey.  Heeding the siren’s call, I made my way to the Bay and stood there thinking Do I go left or right? Left or right? I chose left.

I chose to go and say hello to him and see how his new spot was.  Today it was bright and sunny and hot – the pier filled with people.  There were men fishing and families picnicking.  There was a man sitting on a bench, playing his guitar and getting lost in the sound.  A couple leaning against the building, taking shelter in the shade and giving their dog a bowl of water to drink.  And right in front of where I spread his ashes, two men sitting on a bench drinking beer out of glass bottles – no brown bag. Proud and happily defiant. He would have liked that.

I squatted down to look at the aqua water and snap a picture of the beautiful day. The woman standing about twenty feet behind me, watched me closely.  When I turned to leave, she didn’t even attempt to avert her eyes, she just watched. Her observing me, me observing the others, and him floating along the water, watching it all with a smile. There were no tears today, just peace.

This is the first time I have written about him without crying. I have finally let him go. I have let him go both literally and figuratively, evidenced by my sense of peace and lack of salty tears.  He will always be a part of my past.  Knowing him and loving him has shaped who I am today which will certainly impact who I will become in the future.  But this next chapter is mine. Mine to write as I wish, carrying with me all that I have learned and all that I wish to experience.

And should I ever wish  to say hello, I will simply walk my feet down to the Bay and watch the waves lap against the pier, where he dances on the water and observes the passersby – just as he always has.

Your truly,

Erin Terese

P.S.  Thank you for taking this journey with me. Your readership, friendship and support makes all the difference in the world. xo

 

How Do You Say Goodbye Without Saying Goodbye?

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I wish there had been a funeral or a memorial service.  Something. Something ceremonial or commemorative.  I feel like maybe that was the plan at one point, but the way that everything unfolded was too unpredictable and bizarre.  I don’t think anyone knew how to handle it, or wanted to handle it, or wanted to really face what happened and how much was left unknown.

I think that there is something to be said for communal grieving.  Funerals are not something that anyone looks forward to or wants to attend, but there is something about the gathering of loved ones to help usher and acknowledge the end of ones life.  I remember my grandfather’s and grandmother’s and uncle’s and cousin’s husband’s and friend’s brother’s funeral all vividly. I don’t remember what I had for breakfast two days ago, but I can remember those days like they were yesterday.  They are significant and something I know now to never take for granted.

The thing about my ex boyfriend is that he had been missing for two months.  You can’t have a funeral or service when you don’t know if someone is dead or alive. You have to hope and pray and wait. And then when his body was found, it was so badly decomposed that it was shipped from coroner to coroner throughout the state, each one trying to determine the cause of death.  I don’t think any of us expected it to take so long and everyone was hoping to find out why he died.  To know for sure.  Maybe that would offer some closure. But alas, it came back unknown.  Almost 8 months after he was found and 10 months from when he died, his remains were finally released.  Perhaps there should have been a funeral then, but there wasn’t.  And it wasn’t my place to push.

My most vivid memory is the day after his body was found. I took the day off work and went to his mother’s house.  I sat with her as she made calls to friends and family and as she spoke with the local coroner about next steps.  We drank tea. We went for a walk and sat on a bench under the elm trees in a nearby park.  We shared stories with his grandfather, and we also sat in silence. So much silence.  Later in the evening, his aunt, uncle and cousin came by the house with dinner. We all sat out on the patio, trying to make sense of everything and watched the sun slowly slip below the horizon.  Spoke logically about next steps and reminisced on when he was a boy and all the things we’d wished for him.  I didn’t cry much that day. Perhaps the hours of crying the day before or the countless hours to come kept them at bay that day. Or perhaps it was too real.  I left feeling exhausted, but at peace.  It was nice to have the warm embrace of those that loved him and to share our sadness and confusion.

But that was the only time we gathered in his name.  Nothing formal was ever planned.  When his remains were released, they were divided among his family and his sister graciously offered me some as well.  So now I have this small packet of ashes to spread. And I don’t know what to do with him.  Selfishly, I want that damn ceremony with his friends and loved ones where we can laugh and cry and share stories until the wee hours of the morning.  But we don’t always get what we want.  And I suppose it’s fitting, since I never knew what to do with him when he was alive.  Makes sense I wouldn’t know what to do with him now.  Keep him close or let him go, free to dance on the wind and the waves.

I will never again take for granted the opportunity to grieve together.  To know what happened.  To have a large group of people that want to celebrate and mourn you and mark the end of your brilliant chapter on Earth.

And I don’t mean to sounds angry or resentful that he didn’t get a life celebration or memorial or funeral, I just mean to highlight how beneficial it is in the grieving process.  It helps to look it in the face, feel it in your bones and share the experience with others.  There is a reason you find these ceremonies in most cultures and civilizations across the globe and throughout the centuries. Major life events deserve to be acknowledged.  This was just too bizarre and too painful and unfolded in a way that made it easier to put off, and off, and off. And so the grieving has been long, and drawn out, and long.

sand

I normally tie my writing off with a nice little bow and “here is the takeaway”, but there really isn’t a nice bow on this.  It’s still not closed.  I still have his ashes on my shelf in a box that says Love, waiting to meet their final destination. Now where-oh-where do I take him?  Where-oh-where do I lay him to rest?  Where-oh-where do I choose to take my tiny piece of him and say goodbye, in my own to-be-determined ceremony of my own?

This is life.

Beautiful. Messy. Real.

Yours truly,

Miss Erin Terese

 

 

 

 

Unarmoring My Heart

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It wasn’t until the death of my ex-boyfriend that I realized how strongly I had been guarding my heart.

It should have been evident from my inability to find another partner, but I couldn’t see it. I had grieved the death of our relationship, the future we planned for ourselves, and his presence in my life…  But when I grew weary of mourning, I shut it down – and the remaining pieces that needed examining, laid quiet within me.

unarmored-heart

The past few months have been a blur for me.  From the moment I was notified of his disappearance, I felt it inside me – he was gone.  But with lack of a body and no evidence to support it concretely, I had hoped for the best and went through the motions of searching for him and discussing all the possible scenarios with his family.

Never in my wildest dreams could I have envisioned myself spending so much time with his mother and the conversations we have had.  She and I have been a support to one another in ways that words cannot begin to describe (but of course, I will try).  The stories we have shared with one another have shed light on parts of him that neither of us saw.  It has helped to connect the dots.  To answer unanswered questions. To see the man we both loved so dearly in a much broader sense.

When I received the news that his body had been found, it was as if the whole world stopped and came crashing in. There was a reckoning. Every thought and feeling and emotion that was left unaddressed came bubbling up and pouring out. I was unleashed.  Consumed by feelings of loss and regret, I knew I had to sit with it.  I had to allow it to surface and to acknowledge every tear and fear as it arose.  And I did. And I grieved the loss of him – heavily.

And it didn’t take long before the truth came to me and looked me square in the face: ever since our breakup, I have been dating with a guarded heart.

In some ways I had known it all along, but I hadn’t realized how strongly I had it guarded until that moment.  Yes, I have learned to embrace life and friendships and my passions in life with a kind of fierceness and unbridled sense of adventure that is easy for myself and others to see. How confusing then, for men who try to date me, when they can see how open my heart is for the rest of the world, and how armored it is for them.

How completely unfair of me to expect that I should find a patient and open-hearted Knight in Shining Armor to unlock the chains I placed, when I wasn’t even willing to hand them the key.

So now I must remove my armor.

In order to receive the love I so greatly desire to feel again, and to build the family I long to have, I must remove the barriers I have built, and allow space for love to enter again.  I must be willing to place my heart into hands that promise to hold it gently, and trust that it will be cared for and tended to, the same way I will tend to theirs.

And so begins the next chapter for me, of unarmoring my heart. Of learning to love again, unbridled, without fear of being broken.

I can only hope, and try one day at a time, to allow my tender-heartedness to be my greatest strength and not my weakness.  To remember that love is worth the risk and that it is always good to have it stretched open, even if it has to close back up for mending.  Like a beautiful flower, it can always bloom again.

Here’s to unraveling the chain, one link at a time!

Yours truly,

Miss Erin Terese

Listen to your Heart

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There is so much talk about paying attention to your breath.  Your life force. The way your feet hit the ground when you propel yourself down the path. The way you react when someone or something triggers you.

You must pay attention to your thoughts.  Pay attention to your verbal response and to your initial instinct.  Pay attention to what triggers you, why it triggers you and how you consciously choose to respond – then change the course of your conditioning.

But what about listening to your heart?

listen to your heart

Can you feel it open when you are with someone that makes you feel safe and understood?  Can you feel it flutter when you have stumbled upon something that excites you?  Can you feel it constrict when you feel threatened or misunderstood or wronged?

Have you ever placed your hand over your heart when something moves you?

Have you ever laid your hand over your lover’s heart as they share their story with you?

There is a power there.  An answer. A blessing.  A key to understanding.

I do agree that we must pay attention to our breath. To our body.  To our mind.  To our word choice and to our actions.  Absolutely.

But, I also think we must be aware of the rhythm and the state of our heart.  I am beginning to feel as if it is our greatest compass.  The ultimate litmus test. Our advocate. Our confidant. Our guide.

From my heart to yours.

 

Yours truly,

 

Erin Terese

My Relationship With Silence

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Silence can mean many things.  It’s not just the absence of sound, but can mean so much more.  A purposeful retreat.  A kept story.  Hidden truth.  Stifled memory. A chapter sealed shut or a precious moment locked away for only your viewing pleasure.

Silence and I have experienced all of the above.  For better or worse, Silence and I have shared them all.

I would love to say that Silence is good or that Silence is bad.

Don’t we always want the black and white?  The right and wrong?  The clearly defined choice?  But the truth of the matter is, Silence lives in the gray.  There is a time and a place.  It serves a purpose.  It can be our friend or foe, but just like real relationships, it exists in our life to teach us a lesson.  When we look back, we can see how Silence was there to help us.

I don’t even need to dig far back into the memory files to give you an example.  I can rewind just the past few days and examine the relationship I have with Silence.

Typically, I am a sharer.  I open myself to others.  I listen to their stories and readily share my own.  Many people struggle with sharing their deep and intimate thoughts, but I share them frequently with my loved ones and often with strangers or new friends that I consider to be kindred spirits.

And since you, dear reader, are a kindred spirit, I will share with you a few details about my relationship with Silence.

silence

Silence Example #1

I am currently in the beginning stages of a budding romantic tale.  A new love interest has entered my world and I want to share all of the beautiful details with everyone I know (and there are many), but they are mine. And his. Ours. And so it goes that I give the bullet-points and highlight reel to a select few confidants, and the rest stay sealed away for myself.  They are far too precious and too valuable for sharing.  Outside of he and I, those moments are silenced.  Kept fresh and locked away with the valuables – unwilling to let words or time wear away the gleam.

Silence Example #2

Someone I hold dear to my heart contacted me the other day. We have a strange relationship, he and I.  Once lovers, now friends – but walking that fine line of how much is too much communication and what does friendship look like, post-romantic-relationship?  I was almost silent. For hours I rolled around whether or not I should respond.  Whether I should remain silent and seal our relationship shut (since this awkward phase frustrates me), or whether I should answer my friend and try to navigate this new terrain of friendship.

After hours of deliberating, I wrote him back.  For me, purposeful silence feels like punishment.  Not everyone perceives it that way, but I do.  And since I do, I simply will not do that to someone.  I either tell the person I don’t think we should remain in contact or I open a dialogue and work on mending the relationship.  But he is far too special not to at least try navigating this new friendship terrain.  Ultimately, we had a pleasant chat and made another small step down our new path as just friends.

Silence Example #3

My poor, sweet, patient mother has been dealing with my silence.  About six months ago I moved cities, changed jobs and all but altered every single facet of my life.  While this change has been welcomed, and wanted, and I am more than grateful for every ounce of change – it has also been extremely exhausting.  Unable to do any single daily task on auto-pilot, I was left drained and in need of more “me time” than I have needed in years.  Prior to my move, she and I would chat regularly and text often.  After my move, I all but fell off the face of the phone and went silent.

In reality, we exchanged a few texts a week and a brief phone call once a week, or every other week, but for her it was as good as silence.  We had a nice long chat tonight and I explained my silence and my gratitude for her patience.  I am well aware that silence can seem like abandonment, but I needed to retreat. My own personal silence was necessary to process all the change in my life.  So my personal silence, my walks in the park and books by dim lighting, resulted in a restful mind for me and worry for my mother. But she kept silent, out of respect for me and waited for my return and our lovely, silence-mending conversation we had this evening.

********

We all have a personal relationship with Silence.  We share different experiences and view Silence under different light. It’s amazing really – how something that seems like such a simple concept, can take on so many forms.  Isn’t it?

Yours truly,

Erin Terese

P.S. This diary-like post was inspired by the Weekly Writing Challenge posed by the Daily Post on “The Sound of Silence.”

Avoid, Rinse, Repeat. – I am breaking the cycle.

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I struggle with when to stay and when to walk away in romantic relationships, friendships and even in my career.  This is a sensitive subject for me.  In order to discuss this and have any kind of opinion on the matter, I am going to be vulnerable and air my dirty laundry for all to read.  I don’t like this.

So here it goes…

I don’t think I really noticed how wounded I was until I started writing this blog.  I didn’t fully understand how strongly I hold my loved ones in my grasp.  I didn’t realize that some I would fight for endlessly and others I would let slip away as if they had meant nothing to me. To the outsider, it may seem haphazard – but there is surely a rhyme and definitely a reason.

The thing is, it is the same thing every time.  I will fight to save and help and encourage the people in my life.  To no end.  When they call, I am there. Even if it has been years, my heart beats for my loved ones.  I truly carry their heart in my heart.  This is true until this one thing happens.  Until I think that I might be left. If I fear that I may be at fault, have done any wrong and that I might be abandoned, I leave. I rewrite what has happened in my head and make it seem as if it was my choice to be drama free – when really I was guarding my heart.  And wounding it further along the way.

Same story, different boyfriend, lover, friend – every time. Avoid, Rinse, Repeat.

And yes, some of those relationships are better left where they lay.  It was a blessing.  But some could have been nurtured.  Some I could have taken the time to reach out again and listen with a patient heart.  I could have asked to hear what I had done, if anything, that lead to the growing canyon between us.  But my standard response was to speculate and write the story in my head. As if I knew. As if there was anyway I could really have known what happened.

My cowardice in confrontation has left me with lost friendships and lovers that perhaps could have been life-long friends or loves of my life, had I not been so fearful of their judgment.  Had my insecurities and childhood wounds not left me so fearful of being brokenhearted. And on the flip-side, I may not have even been their friend or lover had I not been seeking their approval in the first place.  Knowing this is a trip.

What I have learned from all of my writing, the endless hours dissecting my thoughts, and countless hours learning to quite my mind, is the truth. The essence of me. (And I know many of you are going to relate to this) I have a large heart.  A big one.  I could fill a football stadium with my loved ones. I would fly around the world and scale the highest mountain to help any one of those dear ones.  But have I always given myself that same amount of love and dedication?  Sadly, I have not.  Not until now.

nurture

Now I am going to fight to save and help and encourage myself in this life.  This means that I will lean into the discomfort of conversations to find the truth.  I will no longer walk away when things get scary, I will stay and talk them through and hug everyone on the way out – whether it is for the last time or if I will see them bright and early the next morning.

I am giving up on the idea of never.  The idea that you have to even walk away. It doesn’t have to be a forever goodbye, slam the door in your face and never hear from you again.  It can be a “So long my friend, I wish you the best.  I love you.  Until will meet again”.  Because guess what?  Life is short.  It is crazy.  There are twists and turns and chapters we can never imagine. Leading characters may fade into the back, and supporting characters may swoop in and save the day.

You never know.

To assume and wonder and speculate does no one any good.  Ask for your answer.  Hear it with an open heart.  If you do not get an answer, then do your best to release it and bless it on the way out – “until we meet again”.  Or at least that is my plan.  Instead of “Avoid, Rinse, Repeat” it is “Love, Nurture, Forgive”.

Yours truly,

Miss Erin Terese

It’s Okay to be Sad Sometimes

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It’s okay to be sad sometimes.  It’s okay to feel the weight of things.  It’s okay to cry and ask for time alone.  It’s okay to feel hurt and betrayed and wounded. It is.

It may not feel good, or you may feel foolish about your weighty emotions, but when they arise it is important you acknowledge their presence.  These moments of despair and loss and sadness reveal what is important to you.  What makes you tick.  Who you are, where you have come from and what you have learned.

Whether this bout of sadness is grounded in a break-up, an illness, a death, a job loss, a bankruptcy or a mistake you have made, the feelings are valid.  Even if you cannot place the reason for your sadness, it still needs to be addressed.  Nursed.  Tended to.  Loved and  cared for with kindness and patience.  When you find yourself in these moments, you need allow the feelings to be, address them, and then dig into your bag of tricks and exercise the things that help you heal and reset.

We all have them: the cure-alls.  Not the glass of wine, cigar, romp in the sheets or fist fight you might be yearning for – but the real medicine.

The moment alone.  The walk in the park.  The deep breaths.  The nap.  The tall glass of water.  The talk with a friend or words in your journal.  The tears on your pillow or tea in your cup. The coins tossed in the homeless person’s hat or hand on the weeping woman’s back. The gratitude and forgiveness. The prayer or plea or pause for reflection.  The gentleness with yourself.  This is the real medicine.  The real cure.

Sadness

When you take a moment to still your mind and ask yourself what you really need, the answer presents itself.  The answer always lies within.  We forget this sometimes.  And sometimes we see the answer and because we don’t like it, we push it aside. We need to take the time to address what ails us and to sit with it.  To understand it.  To heal it and forgive what needs forgiving.  To love it and feel gratitude for all that we have and for the opportunity to change and grow.

The important thing is that we take these moments as a lesson.  A lesson in learning more about who we are and how to love ourselves more kindly, with the gentleness and care that we deserve.

Yours truly,

Erin Terese

P.S.  How do you care for yourself in times of sadness?