Today is the day I choose
to spend more time in self-love
than in self-deprecation,
more time in self-acceptance
than in self-criticism,
more time in joy
than in depression,
more time in gratitude
than in complaining,
more time in celebration
than in grief.
Happiness is a choice I must make.
I choose happiness today.
Before he dropped the bomb
I had a regular, consistent gratitude practce.
I recorded five things every night
for which I was grateful.
I had been doing this for years,
and had already filled multiple books
with my nightly gratitudes.
After he dropped the bomb,
I expanded my practice.
When my mind was telling me my life was over
and that I’d never be happy again,
I recorded twenty things every night
for which I was grateful.
I began to count the smallest things
the way the sun rose,
the way my child’s voice sounds,
the taste of soup,
the temperature of the wind.
I realized that those “little” things
are enormous in their beauty
and their presence.
I realized I could be more grateful.
I started to realize that happiness
is a choice I make every day.
I’m into my healing process.
I can thank him for dropping the bomb
and blowing my old life to bits
so that I could create a new life.
I’m still working on forgiveness,
but that is another poem.
Safe, at home,
after being out in the snow.
Went out to celebrate
a friend’s birthday,
when it was time to drive home,
Snow that made me drive
(for safety’s sake)
oh so slowly.
as the car skidded.
My prayers saw me home.
Now, ready for bed,
clean, safe and warm,
I feel just one thing:
Early I was awake
Sleep was not an option.
So I got up, sat for an hour,
made myself breakfast,
and by 6am I was writing.
By 9:45am I was teaching yoga
to twenty-eight people,
willing to do the work.
We laughed, breathed,
By 11am I was in a grocery store,
last minute shopping.
By noon I was vacuuming
my kids’ carpets.
At 2 it was time
to drop them off with their dad.
I took a long, hot bath,
then I wrapped presents.
Then it was dinner,
after which my dad
and I played guitar.
I searched for a Christmasey feeling,
but sang Irish drinking songs instead.
Now it’s time for bed.
This was my first Christmas Eve without my kids since they were born. I think I did a lot of grief processing beforehand, because I felt much more peaceful and calm about it than I thought I was going to feel. I anticipated drowning my sorrows in some prosecco,
but I didn’t feel called to it, I didn’t want it.
Last year at this time my husband was still living with me and it was painful to witness Christmas Eve as a newly broken family.
This year is different. I don’t feel a need to escape my feelings. I don’t feel surprised or overwhelmed by them.
And that is a true gift.
I woke up this morning with a lightness,
was able to get so much accomplished…
something had shifted,
and my mind wasn’t stuck in the same old thoughts.
I felt more like myself today
than I had felt in ages.
I took time to take care of my self,
celebrated the quietude,
seized the chance to tune in
and clear my space.
Now, freshly showered,
clean sheets on my bed,
and a warm mug of tea
steaming beside me,
I look back in gratitude.
It was an incredibly ordinary day
by mostly anyone’s standards,
but I’m feeling peaceful now.
God bless my ordinary life.
Forward progress made,
now I just need to keep the momentum,
stay clear, focused, intentional in my choices.
I stood up for myself and my kids today,
and we reached a resolution that’s workable.
I breathed, meditated and prayed today.
I wrote in my journal, drew a mandala,
performed japa with my mala,
chanting the mantram SAT NAM…
I diffused lavender and frankincense essential oils,
created a mini altar
with an LED candle,
a rose quartz heart,
and pictures of my kids;
I listened to music, danced, did yoga…
That mediation room
probably never saw so much action!
Now to keep taking action
on behalf of myself and my kids,
moving forward, remembering what matters.
As I say goodbye to my marriage
a whole new life awaits.
World, here I come!
I wake up.
It’s a new day.
Anything is possible.
I’m so grateful
that every single morning
I get a chance to start over.