In my house there is an ugly green couch. It was given to me by a friend when I was in the middle of divorce and in the process of a considerable downsize. I was literally cutting my square footage of living space in half and walking away from large spaces in favor of smaller, more manageable ones. The oversized furniture it took to fill up my old space was never going to work in this new place. Sometimes a purge is necessary – sometimes you should not adorn your new surroundings with your old materials.

It started in middle school. Science class was held in a portable outside and it became a game for one boy to grab my *ss as we walked there each day. The next year, another great game was created when a different boy would pull me into the band closet and try to kiss me while his friends held the door. Every year, it was my great pleasure to be greeted by the PE teacher as I emerged from the locker room after dressing out, “would you like fries to go with that shake?” he would ask as he watched my friends and me head down to the school field.

I’m worried, I say – I’m concerned because we’ve been on antidepressants for over a year now and she’s still depressed.

“Of course she’s depressed.”We’d found a new therapist, one who is working with new techniques. These techniques have worked with other kids – we are hopeful.“Every day is hard for her – everything she does, everywhere she goes it is too bright or too loud or not loud enough. It takes all she’s got to just get through the day. She has a right to be a little depressed. I would be worried if she was not a little depressed.”

Everything was falling apart. Seemingly overnight we lost almost all of our money, everything gone. What little was left would be finding its way elsewhere soon. Worse than that, it was becoming apparent to me that our financial problems were the least of our worries and in fact, were only symptoms of much bigger problems hiding in plain sight right beneath the surface.

“I’m just so busy…” I caught myself. I was in the grocery store talking to a friend, or an acquaintance really, who had asked about my life. I never want to be the I’m so busy girl. The truth is we’re all really busy with things we’ve made up to do in order to occupy our time. Our level of busyness (or avoidance) is entirely up to us. When it comes to civilization, we have more free time than any societal group in human history. But even with all of our newly found freedom, we don’t take the time to properly care for ourselves in body and in spirit.

My name is Sara and I’m a recovering perfectionist.For most of my adult life I was a striver. A striver and a pleaser. For many years, my life consisted of a neatly compartmentalized set of rules and standards that created a false sense of safety and security. Nothing was as sacred as these self-imposed rules and I would let nothing violate them. If challenged, I would defend to the death, twisting the truth to match my skewed reality.

Her boss was angry. He wanted her to begin planting the seeds to a co-worker about the eventual phasing out of her job. When she refused to do so, the treatment was harsh and his abuse became focused on her. Suddenly, she could do no right.His wife was angry. It seemed like he could do nothing to please her. Most days she blew up his phone with angry texts in order to get him to do what she wanted. ‘If you were worth anything.. .’ ‘If you cared at all.. .’ ‘If you ever leave me, I’ll make your life a living hell.’ All the while, they served on the local church council and were members of the best clubs in town – they were modeling the perfect family. This was going to be a long life.

We were made for each other – some say the perfect pair.

I told him it always felt like I was disappointing someone; my employer, my kids, my family, my friends. There just never seemed to be enough of me to go around. He had asked me to describe the most difficult thing about being a single mom. At the time, I thought that answer was true – but looking back, I think maybe the hardest part about being a single mom – or a mom in general is that it’s easy to lose yourself a little bit. He told me he wished I needed him more. A lot of people in my life say this.

It was a very bad day. He was fired and upon release of the news, the company stock increased by 21%....She looked into her checking account and realized he had taken everything and had gone himself, leaving her with the house and the kids and all the explaining that goes along with such a matter…After years of an empty and volatile relationship, she had come to the realization that the life and the world she had built for herself needed to come to an end…

She had been in a loveless marriage for years – decades maybe. If asked, she talked about it openly, and even those who didn’t know somehow knew. A mutual friend approached me, “it’s become the elephant in the room,” she said. “She can’t see how much this is impacting her.” Over the years, this relationship had stolen her joy, her beauty. It was making her bitter and angry – her sense of self was seeping out at the seams. There is nothing quite as lonely as being in a lonely marriage.

Orlando has had a tough week. There’s a general malaise right now around the city. It’s a mixture of shock and grief, and sadness, a lot of sadness – but I think mostly we’re just trying to make sense of the senseless. And come to terms with all the terrible things that have just happened in our own backyard. It is hard to accept tragedy.

“I just want to be certain – I want to know what’s going to happen, and I want to make sure I don’t get hurt.” I was silent, listening to my friend as she was carefully spelling out the details of a new romantic interest. Her voice was filled with enthusiasm and a little dread. New relationships are scary and she was afraid of the unknown.In life, there is so much uncertainty.

“Wow! I loved that Christina Grimmie.” My daughter was giving me her take of the evening’s events as we made our way to the car. “I want her to be my new best friend.”We all agreed there was something quite special about the talented 22 year old. She had a presence on stage that was open and inviting. I wanted her to be my new best friend too.I have a friend whose nephews make up the band, Before you Exit – BYE was touring with Christina Grimmie and had a stop at a small venue in Orlando – which made for a great opportunity to support them.

I love hearing people’s stories. For whatever reason, people seem to open up to me – from the girl in the check-out lane to strangers in airports, I’ve come to accept this as part of my life - listening to people’s stories. I can affirm fact is stranger than fiction. There is a beauty in the human condition as it shows its resilience.We long for connection – with ourselves, with the world around us, with those we love. As connection doesn’t happen, we begin to contrive a story to help make sense of it all. This story creates our grid for understanding. The story represents our reality, but not necessarily the truth.

I watched dauntingly as he piled on the plates. Each one giving a sharp clang as it settled in. It was too early on a Saturday morning to do math in my head. But a quick add told me the whole contraption was probably over a million pounds, or maybe closer to 225 – but at least double my bodyweight because that was the gig. The expectation was set - I was to pull the thing to the other side of the room. It looked hard. I wasn’t sure I was quite in the mood for hard.

Would you rather have an infinite amount of money or an infinite amount of time? This question was posed to me by my 14 year- old son earlier this month. Without hesitation I knew the answer, he knew my answer – it was time.For whatever reason, money has never been all that important to me, but I love time - time to myself, time to contemplate, time to sit and be still, time with no agenda. I breathe it in like some sort of hyper-charged oxygen.

It had been a long day. Fatigue was wearing on all of us as we stumbled through the marathon of the typical suburban Saturday. Lessons, baseball, play practices, hair appointments, gym appointments, laundry and shopping – the list seemed endless. There was an issue with my son – in that he simply could not ‘remember’ to put his laundry away in spite of my incessant pleading.

This is a picture of my actual kitchen. My house and my life are a little messy right now. I hadn’t noticed the state of the cluttered sink area really until I rounded the corner in my attempt to retire for the evening last night. And though I’ll be the first to admit I’m not the world’s most fastidious housekeeper, the image of dinner remnants and a week’s worth of unwashed coffee mugs brought in from my car (don’t judge) jarred me a little. I hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten. The messes in our lives can pile up quickly if we’re not paying attention.