I came on here tonight to write a post about the process of grieving my mother's death, but the words did not want to form in a way that expressed what I was trying to say. Instead, I clicked on the "view blog" button and started reading through my post-divorce life. Sometimes I impress myself. Right now I feel like I've been to hell and back in the course of a single afternoon. I'm exhausted now, and not exhausted in the way I used to describe in my adventures in art and writing and spontaneous beach excursions that involved partial nude swimming under the light of a full moon. Right now my thoughts are swimming in the slightly opiate effects of a great bottle of wine. I'm feeling the associated calm and letting my mind go through the memories of the lift I carved out for myself juxtaposed with the chains I feel as I mire through work and the desperate attempt to survive. Surviving. Wishing for words. Wishing for a spark of hope in what seems like a d

For the first time in more than a year, we made it through the pay period without borrowing money. Sort of. There was a snag with the tag for our new vehicle (bought before we started the program), and I had to take money out of the car repair fund to pay for it. As I stood at the ATM trying to figure out how much to withdraw, I decided to take out $175...just in case. The total transaction was $63, and the smart thing to do would have been to put the rest of the money back. You already know I didn't do that, but what you don't know is my rationale. I paid the new car payment (yes, payments!) one month early, so I knew we had that bit extra. But I also used this line of thinking earlier in the week when I wanted to buy something else. The Power of the $0 Budget There's a flaw in my thought process sometimes, and the truth is that the $0 budget is the best way to combat this. As I worked the numbers for December, I realized the power of this tool. After paying a

Can we pretend that there's not been some ridiculous period of silence here? Can we pick up right where we left off? Can we go back to being friends? Life is in full swing here in the mountain. With the immigration process behind us and both sets of feet firmly planted in the U.S., we're now navigating the waters of living together without knowing there's a return flight waiting somewhere around the corner. No more monthly flights out of the country. No more running two households. No more dog kennels. No more rental cars. No more credit cards. We made the decision this week to get out of debt. I tallied up everything, and we currently owe $119,000. It's time to pay this off and create a life for ourselves in which we don't have to raid the change jar to go grocery shopping or dig around under the cushions for gas money or play the fun little game in which we make sure there is at least $1 of available credit on a card so we can fill the gas tank before t

It seems the universe is trying to teach me a lesson, and I'm honestly not sure if I'm going to master it...mostly because it's difficult. I earned a Bachelors degree in two years, traveled to South America alone, and have weathered my share of relationship woes and losses, but this is just too much. I have to let go. I still remember the serenity of that moment. Last Sunday I reread the two Melody Beattie books that I have here (back from the therapy days). I entered therapy trying to save my doomed marriage, and my therapist recommended the books as a way to deal my overwhelming obsession with trying to control outcomes that involve other people. Beattie writes about co-dependency, and while I don't think I have issues with that  (mostly because I generally steer clear of addicts), I do see what I have in common. One of the key principles is moving beyond the obsession with someone else's behavior and channeling it into creating a life for yourself. She

As I stepped out of my clothes the other day before taking a shower, I caught a glimpse of my newly formed tan line that marked where my tank top rested during my run that day. Normally, such a sighting calls for a day of mourning which includes slathering every inch of my body with sunscreen, donning shirts, pants, and socks that cover every inch of my body, and spending the rest of the day indoors with the curtains closed. Then I berate myself for not having that same sense of urgency on a daily basis when I should wear sunscreen. My ideal running weather. I'm a white girl. My skin is pale enough that I can use baby powder to set my makeup. Skin cancer runs in my family along with the blonde hair and blue eyes. I often tell people this when they wonder why I'm sitting at the beach under an umbrella with a double-sized towel wrapped around my long-sleeve shirt and sweatpants. It's a lie, but the truth is embarrassing. The truth is that when I look at my naked body i

In seven hours I am leaving the country and returning on Tuesday to start a new chapter in my life. I'm sitting here right now looking around my home and making notes about the final tasks I need to complete before loading the car and heading to the airport. I have laundry to do, dishes to wash, and some items to write for a client, but I cannot stop the thoughts ramming against the inside of my head. Todo va a cambiar . Everything is going to change. He told me that recently, and I'm painfully aware right now just how true that is. For more than two years we've waited for this moment. We've weathered an international relationship through endless text conversations, a few video chats, and monthly visits interspersed with a few extended moments. We made it through the stressful visa process. We survived the interview. Can we survive living together? That thought alone has me fairly convinced I will not be sleeping tonight. Honestly, I cannot remember the last time

Several years ago I subscribed to a list that sent me a daily email reminding me of important historical events in the world of literature. On February 25, 2007, the feature was about the first meeting of poets Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes. I printed out the story of how she bit his lip so hard she drew blood and scribbled a note on the back: "If only we could all have this level of passion in our lives." Then I passed it on to my dear friend, Nadia , who laughed. I just remember wishing I could experience that level of intensity in my life...an uncontrollable urge...an irresistible craving. How often have I denied the level of depth so blatantly obvious in these eyes? Unfortunately, it's not possible to experience that type of passion when you restrain your emotions with the equivalent of a Victorian-era corset. For some reason completely known to me after years of therapy, I feel the need to present the facade of the cool girl at all times. She's my superhero

Uff...I'm really not one for resolutions, mostly because I hate the thought of restricting life changes to one day of the year. I like to believe we are constantly evolving and morphing into new creatures. Yet, it is now 2015, and I want to embrace the spirit of change. 2014 was a rough year for me. I discovered an amazing song by an Argentine singer that really summed up my life experience lately. Ojos de Papel...Eyes of Paper. Seriously, if you looked at me recently, you would see the lifelessness. Paper is a dead tree, and that's where I've been. It's also a springboard for new life, and that's where I want to go. There are no resolutions here...just some big plans. 1. Publishing a manuscript I wrote 7 years ago. 2. Publishing teaching materials. 3. Embracing meditation and mindfulness. 4. Starting a new blog. 5. Continuing the quest for a baby. 6. Moving on with life after a nearly 2 year slump. (Thanks a lot jackasses in Washington!) And some not so big plans..