Love and death and waiting and new life. It is the Easter season. I think a lot about these things during this time of year and as such have found myself in a state of melancholy over the past few days.

There has been death – both around me and in me. I am in a transition, another shift of my being. This fills me with excitement and a little disappointment – as I always envisioned my next new thing being dovetailed into a new relationship.

But sometimes the change that needs to happen within you comes in ways you least expect. That’s when you know you’re on to something good.

Last week we talked about the lie of control and how holding on and attempting to take over is how we push away the very thing that is meant for us.

This week, we’ll skim the surface about love and acceptance. Because, you know, I’m keeping it light.

I have always been fascinated by love. Romantic love, the love we have for our children, our pets – the things we love – the love of a higher power - all of it.

What is love?

What we believe to be true about ourselves and the world around us shapes our future. This month, I'm exploring the lies we believe: about ourselves; about others; about the world around us - and how these lies impact us and our relationships.

My grass is dead.

The irrigation system was leaking and so I turned it off to check and see what was going on – which would have been fine, except that I forgot about it and then I was gone most of March. And so now, the grass it dead. Not that it was looking all that great before any of this happened. But I’ll tell you, it sure isn’t looking good now. I’ve decided gardening and yard work really aren’t ‘my thing.’

I’m moving and I don’t know where or when exactly.

The stress of starting a business has sparked my habit of late-night snacking. This has led to a weight gain of about 5 (10?) pounds - not enough to sink me, but enough that my shorts don’t fit quite right. I haven’t had to worry about my weight for a long time, and I’m disappointed in myself – I don’t want to fall into old patterns of self-destruction. Because as it turns out, emotional eating is ‘my thing.’

I woke to the familiar scratching at the door. I am lucky enough to own the world’s most amazing dog (I know your dog is cool, but sorry, mine gets the prize) – I am her person. She wants to be close to me, but sometimes she finds a closed door between her sweet self and the one she seeks.

I got up and groggily opened the door to ensure I didn’t fully awaken, it wasn’t time to get up. I value my sleep. In that blissful state between sleep and awake, I gently thought to myself, ‘she is counting on me – she’s depending on me.’ To love her, to provide for her, to care for her. Same goes for those sweet souls sleeping down the hall and the other one who is away at school.

I was in my 30’s when I began to notice. Living life going through the motions, I wasn’t feeling, couldn’t feel much of anything. Good or bad. I was hardly alive – my heart was shut down and I was a member of the walking dead. In my divorce group this week, we talked a little bit about how and why we shut down our hearts. The response was so positive, I wanted to share some things with you here as well. I challenged the group this week to look closely and see if there was any place in them that might be shut down. If you’re up for it, I’ll set the same challenge to you.

We shut down our hearts to avoid pain.

Feeling crazy in a relationship? The problem might not be you - you might be experiencing gaslighting. Gaslighting is a form of emotional abuse where the victim is left questioning and doubting their own feelings and sanity. Gaslighting is a power play for the perpetrator to gain control over the victim.

I recorded a video for my Divorcing Well FB group, which you can see here.

It had been weeks – months even, since I had known - since I had made the final decision in my heart and my head I guess – but I just couldn’t seem to pull the trigger.

I am highly intuitive – and, even though she wasn’t supposed to have an official opinion, I could tell my therapist’s patience was growing thin. This was the 3rd – 4th – 5th? time we’d had the same discussion in as many weeks.

My kids, what about my kids?

I didn’t want them to be a product of divorce – this was my top priority – or maybe it was an excuse. An excuse to avoid making the hard decision – the difficult circumstance – it would take me out of my sacred avoidance cycle. The avoidance cycle that was as comfortable as my favorite pair of sweatpants.

It was the end of the line. She found herself in an impossible situation and everything had to change. All of it. Every single bit. Some caused by her own mistakes some by the mistakes of others but it didn’t matter because it was all impacting her; and now she was the one who had to make the tough decisions.

One -by- one her friends began to fade away, distancing themselves from a nasty situation for fear that some of her misfortune rub off.

I couldn’t do it anymore.

What do you want to do?

I don’t want to pick up his pieces any longer – I don’t want to continue to clean up the mess from his bad decisions. But I also don’t want to hurt him – and I know he’ll be very hurt (and angry) if I stop.

I didn’t think I should knowingly do things that would disappoint my husband, but instead go along to get along. Values that were taught in my family – they were taught in my church, taught in my community. Peacekeeping was valued over peacemaking and real, authentic relationship.

Yes, he will be hurt – and he’ll feel like you’re abandoning him.

Well, aren’t I?

Yes, you will be essentially.

But the real crime was that I abandoned myself many years prior.

There was a knock at the door.

‘Um, Sara. What is going on?’ – I am making a shift in my life and I hadn’t discussed it with him yet. If I’m being honest, I’ve been avoiding discussing it with him. Avoiding is my thing and it’s easy to justify when you have kids and a life and a big shift that steals your attention.

My dad likes to tell me what to do and I’m not the kind of person who particularly likes being told what to do. We’re both stubborn that way. When he is unsure of the soundness of my decisions, he’s been known to invite me for a friendly lunch or dinner, ‘let’s have dinner at the club tonight…’ where half way through the meal he’ll gently mention, ‘well, you know I’m a little concerned….’ Ah, there it is…

Oh God, I hate you…

I had just stepped into our corporate conference room a few minutes early for a weekly meeting. My co-worker was looking straight at me – it was just the two of us in the room.

You look great again today – every day. Is there ever a time you don’t look this good?

10 years my junior, I like this woman a lot. She is smart and does her job well. She’s single. Her money and her time are both her own. Mine are not. I understood what she meant.

I laughed as I took my seat at the table.

Umm – thanks, I think…

I found myself in a sea of silicone and tattoos. The day was picture-perfect. I always love the intriguing nuances of South Beach where the attitudes and priorities seem so different from my own. There’s a certain freedom to it. I love being an observer there.

I was traveling alone, something I’ve come to love. It’s amazing what you can discover about yourself and how you fit into the world when you travel by yourself.

The room was dark, and my head spinning as I listened to the clock silently tick its way toward dawn. Why did I feel the way I did? I was confused all the time. A constant struggle to attain ‘rightness’ with the people and the world around me, a fight that was pointless, and failing with each attempt. It was keeping me up at night and it was slowly killing me.

Dysfunction, addiction, and codependent relationships are all a part of my story – they are a part of many of our stories.

“Smoke and mirrors, baby. Smmmoke and mirrors.” We were discussing the art of keeping up appearances and those who contrive to live the perfect life.

Huge houses, new cars, extravagant vacations with no real money in the bank. Picture perfect holiday cards while chaos, abuse, and broken relationships dominate the family dynamic. Obtaining the latest gadget for the sake of acquisition without consideration of its actual need and usefulness.

Bigger, newer, faster – often digs another layer in the hole of our discontent. Because everybody knows these things can’t make you happy. Yet, we all try and see if they will.

I get it, I am that person – or I was that person. To some extent, we are all that person.

“Go home, 2016 – you’re drunk.” I love reading The Skimm every morning. They do a great job of reporting what’s happening in the world in a relevant and entertaining way. That was a quote from a few months ago, I’ve held on to – funny, because it’s true.

The Holidays are upon us and I don’t have my sh*t together.

I’m not talking about tree trimming and gift wrapping – all of that is appropriately behind schedule, yes. It’s the bigger things – the stuff of life that makes us who we are, the stuff that shapes our stories that’s got me worried. Expectations, hopes, desires. Things that happened that I wish had not happened. Things that didn’t happen that I wish had. The struggle to accept where I am in this beautiful thing we call life. It’s this stuff that’s got me perplexed right now.

It was a night of intimate gathering. The holidays are filled with nights of intimate gatherings. Within the span of my 90-minute appearance the group had made fun of handicapped people, questioned Obama’s birth heritage and ridiculed and minimized a community member on the autism spectrum. I stood as an outsider in the conversation, simply watching. Nervous laughter came and went as we waited for the buzz of the second, third, fourth (?) drink to kick in and take the sting off the social anxiety hovering slightly above eye level. It seems we all need a drink to take the edge off – I stopped drinking a long time ago.

I like to give myself adventure goals about once a year. I’m not one for resolutions necessary, but I fully support the adventure in trying new things. The easiest way to grow and understand yourself and others more fully is to step out of your comfort zone. Do it differently, try something you normally wouldn’t try. It’s intimidating. You won’t do it right the first time – and you might even look like a fool. Who are we kidding, you’ll most likely look like a fool.

It was a leap and I knew it. But any great thing – any bold move begins with a risk. If your choice is to live a full life, to be fully ALIVE, risk is inevitable.Our hearts, our ideas, our money – sometimes you must ask, ‘am I willing to risk something important to have an opportunity to gain something great?’

I spend quite a bit of time in the Carolina mountains.There is a simple hike to the top of the mountain that is a great way to start the day. It’s about 3 miles with a gradual and steady incline – perfect for the girl from Florida who is more accustomed to a flat surface and an altitude that runs right at sea level. At the top of this hike, there is a gate – and a stern warning not to go any further. Under penalty of law and possibly even death… the warning is pinned to a tree about 10 feet in, and pinned to the next tree is a message stating clearly, no bicycles. The point being, you better stay out of here, but if you do come through, it damn better not be on a bike. It’s hard to take that warning too seriously. The message cracks me up every time.