Mind

I am going to ask for help, with everything that I need help with, with no criticism of myself. Whatever I am going through, I’m not alone. Whatever you are going through, you are not alone. But sometimes everyone feels “so alone,” in this crazy world and from my experience I have to believe that we are almost afraid to reach out. What if the person(s) ask think we are inadequate??? Well, they won’t. One of my coaches taught me this-never steal anyone’s chance to be needed. So, in those times when I feel like I am alone or can’t …

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I am going to write in pencil more often. Flow. Flexibility. The more I go with the flow and the more flexible I am through the twists and turns of a day, the calmer, more centered I feel. The less rigid I am the happier I am. Pencils make me feel like if I have to make a change, I don’t have to scribble out the change or cross it out with a big sloppy “X.” Pencils make me feel like if I have a cancellation, it’s okay, because I can just erase it. No white out, no more ink. …

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I am going to purposefully smile more. It feels good, like real good – even in the most tense of moments. I found a huge batch of photos and picked them with Ricky a few nights ago. Pics from high school, pics from college, pics from my 20’s. “Mommy is that you?” Ricky said pointing to me with my once long blonde hair. “Yeeeep.” I said time and time again. After a few more pictures, I lost his attention to some wrestling magazines I had saved because my brother was on the cover. His focus was now on that of …

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I don’t take my phone into the bathroom with me anymore. C’mon, you do it too, and as a matter of fact, might I add, if ya do, grab a “wipey” and “Iswipe” that bad boy as it’s 1 of the 5 filthiest things we touch throughout the day. From the path, I deviate. But to the bread crumbs, I return. I have since put books back in my bathroom. A couple in a basket. A couple on the back of the bowl. All nonfiction. Some quote books. A biography. A couple of prosperity books. Oh, And A book of …

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A white haired gentlemen was seated in the waiting room at the spa. He and his wife were color coordinated, like something adorable right out of an LL Bean catalogue. He sat with her as she waited for her pedicure throne to be ready. I had just finished my manicure. I was wearing a pair of workout shorts, my injured and atrophied leg, bare.  I turned right from my chair, retrieved my “she’s half robot, half woman” knee brace from my manicurist, relocated my seated position to the floor and proceeded to buckle up and in. Clasps 1-5 snapped, velcro …

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I am sitting on one of my high kitchen chairs. The snow is behind me, it’s bright reflection is lighting up my kitchen. My injured knee, who will shall now call “Burt” is dangling off my chair as a mobility trick to gently gain more flexion in my joint. “Burt?” You ask? Yes. I have named the cantaloupe that is my knee, Burt. ‘Cuz, Why not? I am determined to be friends with him and coach him through this. Today is the best morning I have had since the morning before the trampoline torture. Mostly because of 2 reasons: 1. …

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It was definitely a winter morning. I was 14 years old sitting in the passenger seat of my mom’s car, which at that time still had a cassette player in the dashboard. I put a rap tape on and started working my head bob. My Italian mom wasn’t a big rap music fan at the time, or for that matter, any time….ever. After about 2 songs, my mother in typical Marie fashion, said, “Please!! Take this off, it’s slicing into my brain.” (haha! So dramatic!) So, I boldly ejected the tape from the player with an “attitude.” Yeah, I snatched …

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