I’m going to write a book.

Going to teach myself guitar.

I am going to learn to knit.

I want to learn calligraphy….

Scrapbooking, painting, soap making, desktop publishing, rug making, piano, playwriting…to name a few.

I have always wanted to learn things. I usually have a long list of things to learn “when I have more time.” Books and supplies have been bought in preparation for such a time. Journals lay empty waiting for a pen to scratch that first word of my book. A guitar and amp collect dust as the time to learn has not yet arrived. Many knitting needles lay in wait.

There is so much I want to learn but yet I do not. As a younger person, I was busy trying to be a responsible adult. Constantly running from place to place dreaming of a time when I could finally do what I wanted. Filling days with music, reading and artistic endeavors of all kinds.

Here I am at the brink of 60 and still waiting for that day. Those brief times between things are now filled up with other things with the intent of doing my learning the next time I have down time. As each day comes and goes, I feel like I’ve lost an opportunity to learn something. I am tired now after a full week of work. Weekends are for cooking and catching up on cleaning. When will the days come when I can live in the pleasure of my artistic wishes?

I wait for the perfect time. That’s my thing…i have always done it. Certainly the perfect time will present itself. A time when I’m actually not tired, the apartment needs no attention, dinner is cooked, clothes are clean, garbage is out, bills are paid….Wait! That time will never come! There are ALWAYS responsibilities waiting to be done.

As every day passes, I am happy for checking off the items from my to do list. Thankful at the end of the day for all I was able to accomplish but also a little sad that I missed yet another opportunity to feel guitar strings beneath my fingers. Another day my many journals remain void of words. Opportunities lost.

When you are 20, time seems to be a non-issue because there is still so much of it. At 60, however, time is more finite.

I mourn the fact of all the money I wasted in my life, all the debt I created. I think of how badly I managed such things and I grieve. But as I get older I am starting to think of all the time I misused. Like finances, once time is wasted it is gone. New time, if you are lucky, will appear but the time gone is forever gone.

I have always had a strong need to learn new things. Yet also have a strong fear of failure. In the darkest part of my brain I often hear the words…why bother, you won’t be any good at (fill in the blank). I guess that’s why that perfect time will never appear, because I just don’t trust myself to utilize the time properly and feel my talents are fairly non-existent.

That is also why my wish lists of things to learn has always been so long. If I keep myself overwhelmed, I have an excuse for not trying. Now, I hear my inner voice admit total defeat because I’m just to darn old now.

I think maybe a should start with baby steps. Carve out some time for me to learn something new. I always forget the journey is supposed to be the fun part not the conclusion. I have made myself into a to do list person and I have forgotten about those crazy things that never make it to the list.

So what if I’m terrible at playing the guitar but I enjoy the process. What if my knitted scarf looks nothing like any kind of fashion accessory. So what! Who cares! The journey is where the precious moments live. I’ve been too afraid to go there.

I’m going to tone my list down a bit and start making time for enriching my soul. Whether I’m good or horrible, I will not care. Will my best guitar work land me a record deal? Not in this lifetime. But I can still enjoy the feel of creating something, of learning something and allowing myself to fly no matter how low.

Especially in these trying times, we need to look after our souls. Replenish strength when possible and find the joy which may be found in a chord, a word well written, a meal or whatever. It’s time, the almost perfect time, to start looking at the journey in a new way. I need this today and everyday. I hope you find your joy today!

One of my most enduring memories is of my mom, my sister and myself dancing and singing to a Stevie Wonder song. It was the early 70s. My parents had not divorced yet. I probably wasn’t even in school at this point. Life, at this time, was still joyful and loving.

My mother had a console record player that was the focal point of the living room. She loved music and it was a love she handed down to us. My sister had CP and was confined to a wheelchair but music let her escape those restraints and allowed her to be free.

I remember vividly dancing around the room on the gold wool carpeting that covered the floor. As the music filled the room so did laughter and joy. For the all too brief moment in time, life was absolutely perfect.

Fast forward to years full of teenage angst and isolation. My truest friend was music. In the desperate times, music was my comfort. It could bring me to my knees in floods of tears. It could also fill my body with hope and resolve pushing me to be better. Music has been and still is as important to me as food and air.

There is one constant indicator in my life that let’s me know the darkness of depression is descending on me…when I stop listening to music. When the veil lifts, I run straight back to my music.

I grew up listening to rock and roll. I hated sappy songs, I loved hard driving drum beats and sludgy guitar riffs. Picture AC/DC, Zep and the like.

Mom listened to all kinds of music; Sinatra, Ella, The Beatles, it mattered not. All music had value. I learned that lesson in my soul. As I got older I branched out musically also.

The phenomenon is amazing to me that a song or even a chord from a song can trigger a memory. At almost 60 years old, when I hear “Sultans of Swing” I am transported back to 1976 driving my first car with my best friend listening to AM radio. That song reminds me of a sunny day in the fall, windows down, and no particular place to go. For that moment in time, we were free with no cares. All the garbage life drops on you ceased to exist. That feeling still fills me today.

Friday night were difficult for me in high school. For most it was football games and bonfires. Having social anxiety did not allow me to enjoy such things. As I sat alone in my house my record player was my best friend. On Friday nights, Tom Petty and The Cars kept my company. I would sing a duet or two with Stevie Nicks. I would write strange stories to Dazed and Confused. My music kept me sane.

As I got older life took over as it does. I still relied on music but it took a back seat to paying bills and attempting to be an adult. My old friend was always with me. Music was the driving force behind my drastic move to leave everything behind, start over and reinvent myself. I could not have imagined a new life without the inspiration that music gave me. Life is a highway after all.

Now that life is a bit slower, music is back in full force in my life. I’m discovering music I missed and listening to some new things. I Love all kinds of music. Now I’m learning about the people who make it, their motivations and experiences. My obsession has taken on deeper contexts and is not as superficial as it used to be.

I cannot imagine a life without words and I know a life without music would be barely a life. Music has showed me the greatest of joys, filled my heart with sadness and lifted me from the deepest of valleys. There were times I did not want to go on. I prayed to not have to wake up in the morning. I hated myself and all that entailed, but music, like medicine, would open my eyes to entirely different possibilities in life.

I thank God, with all sincerity, for blessing us mortals with the gift of music. A gift that touches our souls and opens our minds to new levels of thinking. Music has been a parent, a friend, an inspiration and a pure and simple joy. What a lovely sound music is. I’m so very blessed to have had the ability at a young age to dance and sing (very badly I might add) around the living room. Music became part of my DNA that day. Thank you Mom!

We have all experienced words spoken in hushed tones, as if not saying them too loud is somehow better…

She is such a slut.

So sad that’s he’s a junkie. Or she is such a lush.

She’s just a _______ (fill in the blank)..woman, secretary, mom, housewife…what could she know?

He’s a Christian, you know how they are.

She is such a bitch!

I hear he is gay!

She lives over there, she can’t be any good.

Some of these things have been said about me, some even worse. You have heard a few yourself, I am sure.

Labels. In this enlightened age, we still rely on putting labels on people.

I have done it many times myself. The older I get the more useless labels become. I could be wrong but I think labels make us feel better about ourselves. I may be this but, at least, I’m not THAT!

Self-worth, or lack of, is the keeper of labels. When you look in the mirror and hate what you see, you desperately try to find something to feel better about…usually by way of another person. It’s so easy to pass judgement and place a label on someone. You may feel better for a moment, but it doesn’t last. Then you need another fix. Soon it is hard not to talk about someone else.

Some labels are accurate and can be a good thing. They are brilliant, a great artist, an amazing chef and the like. But even those labels do not embody the entire person. Humans have the ability to have multiple layers and intricacies. Humans are seldom entirely the make up of one label.

When you look at a person and only see one label, you are missing the big picture. Our behaviors stem from our experiences. What happens to us or by our own hands, are the things that shape us.

I’m reading a lot about addiction. I used to think one way about it. I passed judgement about it, especially since I was hiding my own addictions. I saw just an addict and that is all I saw. Now I know that there is more to the story but also there is more to the person.

Sometimes in life things happen and they forever change your course. Your brain rewires itself to help you cope. Those experiences cast a hue over everything that comes after. Many times pain or loss are involved and feeling better is all you can think about. But that does not negate the other aspects of your life.

You may be hurting but you still help a homeless person or you paint a beautiful picture or write an inspirational song or take a dramatic photograph or any number of things. That’s why labels are so damaging. They usually focus on the bad with no regard to the good.

I do not allow myself to use labels anymore. I still do but I am fighting the urge. Seeing a person’s entirety is now more important to me than what someone else thinks of me. Once I stopped caring about what “they” think of me, the less important labels became. I used to label myself and quite honestly those were the worst labels I can think of. And I used labels on others to feel better. No more.

I see it everyday in life now. People are so angry and upset. It becomes more difficult to care about others because your pain and fear are so great. As labels are placed on others so is does the fact that it is now easier to discount that person. They become a non-entity. Cast them aside. When we do, we lose a small bit of our humanity and pretty soon there is not much left.

The words and labels that are written behind the security of a computer screen are devastating. The things we say to each other, to people we have never met. It’s heartbreaking. As in an abuse situation, after a while you start to believe those words.

Labels are angry words said with the intent of causing harm. It’s easy to think they are harmless, especially the ones we speak in hushed tones. But those labels have the ability to manifest themselves into a horrible, never-ending scenarios. Telling someone that they are only one thing opens the door to making that a reality. Tell an alcoholic that’s all they will ever be and many times that is the reality that becomes truth.

I am, personally, going to try to give up placing labels on others as I heal myself from those placed on me. I, truthfully, have lost some of my humanity over the years. The words said to me hurt as did the ones I spoke. Words cannot be taken back that’s why we all need to talk less and listen more. That girl everyone calls loose has a story as does the man who who drinks everyday.

No more labels. No more judgements. No more harsh words said in anger. My self worth is no longer contingent on someone else. I do not know if this will make any impact at all in life as a whole but I’m going to try.

I have started a new, actually good habit, of walking during my lunch break. I just circle the parking lot but at least it is a nice parking lot. Trees, a creek and railroad tracks with an occasional train surround the space. The sun peeks through the trees, the sound of the creek running and cute little woodland animals really make it pleasurable.

In my one ear I am listening to a specific playlist I developed just for my walks. Alice in Chains, AC/DC and the like help keep my energy up. I leave the other earbud out so I can hear the nature and cars that come up behind me.

Yesterday I was walking in the newly cool fall weather. A light rain falling on my face, which felt so good. The music pumping directly into my brain. Everything looked and felt like a Tarantino movie. You know the scenes with just the right music and life has a certain look. I even felt like time slowed and my pace looked like slow motion.

I was feeling pretty groovy and a bit hip. The breeze was blowing ever so lightly and I imagined my hair moving to the breeze. My step was brisk and well timed. It was glorious.

When my break was over I energetically walked up the stairs to my office and took a turn to the restroom to check the state of my rain touched hair. I was unprepared for the horror I saw there.

The automatic light turned on as I entered the room, a reflection appeared in the mirror. Gone was that groovy girl with the wind blowing in her hair. Replaced by an old woman with dark circles beneath tired, dull eyes. The dewy skin I envisioned was actually pale and dry and a little lifeless.

Who is that I thought? The person I was a few minutes ago seemed to have disappeared or, even worse, never existed. When I am away from the mirror for any amount of time, I seem to indulge in some fantasy and exclude reality. I think myself younger than I am. I forget my almost 60 years that are under my ever expanding belt.

I never minded growing older. I figured the older I got, the wiser I would become. That part is true. But life, no matter who you are, is difficult. Full of loss, pain, and difficulties as well as laughter and joy. All of which seem to have ended up on my face.

I love the wise aspect of aging but am not relishing the constant look of exhaustion. I don’t even mind the lines as they are proof I lived a life. But the hard reality of no longer being youthful looking hit me yesterday.

Never a beauty queen, I get that. But youth has a certain glow. Tired and youthful looks different than tired and old. Funny how our brains picture a false reality that does not match up with actual reality.

Oh that dammed mirror. Always reflecting all, even the things I do not want to see. To be fair, a mirror once saved my life. After living a reckless lifestyle for a time, I remember looking in a mirror to hollow and dead eyes. I remember thinking I can no longer look at myself. Things I was doing and the way I was living was not authentic to me. I realized in that moment I had to change. I had to get on the right path.

It took some time, a lot of regrets and some hard choices but I was finally able to look into those eyes once more. I knew then that I had changed for good. Today that is still my litmus test, will I be able to look myself in the eye?

So I guess that bathroom mirror isn’t such a bad thing. The reflection might not be exactly what I was hoping to see but at least the image is honest and authentic. No more could I ask for.

I am…

Broken and flawed

Socially awkward

Fearful and often unsure

Obsessive and compulsive

Over thinking in every situation

Really bad with money, really bad

Self-centered as a way of self-protection

Full of doubts, confusion and contradictions

Not always great at decision making

I am also

Trying to heal

Trying to be better

Trying to help others

Trying to be the person I know I am…

The paths I have chosen went through the darkest of places and to the highest mountain tops. I have cried until there were no more tears and laughed until I could not breathe. I have hated and I have loved.

My story is not unique. Many have lived it in variations on the major themes but when all is said, this is my journey. My life. This is who I am…scars, bruises and all.

In my youth, I tried to be someone else. I tried to hide and reshape who I was. I hated myself and the things I had done. In my older age, I no longer have the energy to hide, pretend or second guess. Today I realized that this is who I am.

You can always try to be better but the core of you is you. No amount of polish or decoration can change that.

So today I accept who I am with love and gratitude. Today I will look for the finery. Today I will embrace all that is wrong with me and realize my uniqueness.

Today, I am…

Most of my life so far has consisted of sugar, fat and loads of preservatives. I always considered eating right as being boring, expensive and restrictive. That is, of course, until my body could no longer survive under these conditions and started to break down.

My body had been whispering to me for years to start rethinking food and I chose to ignore it. I loved sweets, fried food and basic garbage food and stubbornly refused to change.

While doing this I would wake up every morning feeling like I had not slept at all. I had to think about everything I did during a day and planned activities (like walking from the car to the grocery store, yes that was an activity for me) according to current energy levels which we always near empty.

I became easier to just sit, eat, drink and smoke. Of course the more I lived like that, the less I could do. Add a heaping serving of depression and anxiety and it is, truly, no wonder I didn’t have a heart attack.

Then along came Covid. I ended up ill from something else during the lockdown and when my legs were too weak to hold up my own weight, the voice inside went from whispering to yelling for change.

Since I could do barely anything else I started researching healthy diets. Not the ones where you need all sorts of special ingredients, but rather eating simple and fresh foods cooked properly. I started off slowly and with each change, no matter the size, I started to actually feel better. I wanted more!

Then I started to cut out unhealthy foods. I then added new tastes, textures and spices. I learned to make things by hand whenever possible so that I could control what I was eating. I learned ways to cut costs and not quality. I learned about planning meals and shopping as well as prep ideas. Now I’m obsessed with going further.

Food and all that goes with it has become my new obsession. A quite unexpected by product of this has been my new found joy in walking and doing some exercise–that was NEVER me.

I never understood good tasting food as my taste buds were perverted by all the sugar I consumed. Once I got away from that I started to crave healthy foods and certain spices. I lost my taste for meat and fried foods. Eating out used to be, basically, my only hobby. Now I want to cook or bake all my own food.

It certainly was easier when I wasn’t working and I feared that I would go back to my old ways when I went back to work. Truthfully, I fell off the vegetable cart a few times but now I think more critically. I made decisions not based on laziness but on good and solid options.

My life has literally changed completely. I still struggle with depression and a few physical problems but I cannot believe the difference. God gave us food to nourish and to heal. Yet we like and crave food which does neither. We have to be mindful (I’m sorry, such an overused word but fits in this context) of how we live. Where and how we buy our products, the best way to consume and store our food and how to quit making excuses for bad behavior.

I do not want to go back. That once beautiful, frosted, shimmering glazed donut now looks like not feeling good, becoming bloated and hurting my health. The “reward” of the taste is no where worth the risk. Never would I have thought this could be me.

Today I thank God for all the small local farms that are raising healthy nutritious food. That are fighting the big farms that only care about making money. I thank Him that organic foods are not just something you find once in a while. Not buying junk food has allowed me to afford more organic foods. I thank God for all the sources out there where, if you are willing, you can find recipes and tutorials for cooking for free.

A lot of things are going wrong in today’s world. I have learned to enjoy cooking and cleaning as my therapy and meditation. It used to be a chore I felt oppressed by, now I love the process and the final product of something cooked with love and care.

Today I hope you find that thing that feeds your soul and if it feeds the body too, all the better. I’m off to make a curry! Enjoy this day!

Words, they can comfort, encourage, teach, show love and caring. One kind word can overcome a hundred harsh words. Words can change a life.

I love words. I love to put them together in all kinds of ways. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. But I love them just the same.

I once had someone in my life that used words to control me and belittle me. Those words stayed with me for years. I used to be careless in my own use of words as I did not know the power they held. Thoughtless words thrown about carelessly can do as much damage as a physical attack on someone…perhaps even with more lasting damage.

As I grew older and started to write more as a way to heal myself, I learned the value of words as well as the value when not to use any. That last lesson took a lot longer to learn. Words, to me now, are sacred. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to be pompous. My vocabulary today is still not as developed as I would like and is heavily peppered with profanity. Very Oscar Wilde!

I am saddened by the lack of reverence for words and the effect they can have on others. I understand fully how easy it is to use degrading and hurtful words from behind the curtain of anonimity. The words I read, not even directed at me personally, on line shocks even my sensibilities.

I do not remember much of my years in high school. Pot fog, regret and bad memories have erased those years. I do remember my English teacher from high school (I never mention anyone without their consent so that is why I have not named her). She was a beautiful woman. How I envied her beauty and grace. She introduced me to reading and, ultimately, started my love affair with words.

It has gotten so easy to just blurt out anything that pops into our heads. I used to be the biggest offender of that verbal crime. Now I see the errors of my way.

One of my favorites lines in the show Longmire is when Vic turns to Walt and asks Whatcha doing? Walt hesitates for a moment and says “Thinking. I do that sometimes before I speak.” I hope I wrote that correctly. But you get the idea. It was brilliant and how I gauge my speech now.

Today’s world moves so fast and if you tend to contemplate your words too long you may not get a chance to speak at all. That’s why I love to write. I can say my peace and you can read it or not at your leisure. What a beautiful thing.

I hope there is a shift back to pausing before words are used. I hope that more thought goes into their execution and considerations are made for the end results of words used. Then a shift in the nastiness will be made.

As we get used to a slight lowering of verbal expectations, let’s push back a little bit and remember how powerful the written and spoken words are. They truly carry with them an ultimate power that should not be misused. We take for granted the power of an automobile and the damage it can do if it is not properly respected. The same with words. They can be a blessing or a curse. How will you use yours?

I used to be the self-crowned queen of platitudes. I, as with most people, spewed them with only the best of intentions. I wanted to be helpful. It wasn’t until I actually experienced them did I start to wonder.

In my 20s and 30s I tried desperately to get pregnant. In my mind, a child was going to save me from my depression and anxiety…not a healthy ideal I know.

I had, just a few years before, experienced an unplanned pregnancy that ended in an adoption. At that time, I could barely take take of myself let alone a child. Now I was more stable, married and ready to try motherhood.

Weeks went by, then months and then years and no baby. I begged God and made deals with Him to give me a child but to no avail. As the years passed, my mental state deteriorated. I was despondent.

During this time, loving and well-meaning friends told me I was thinking about it too much. That it would happen when I least expected it. It never did. I was told not to stress about it, it would just happen. It never did. Lots of platatudes filled with love filled me with anger and grief.

Not only was I living with my guilt and remorse (was I being punished for my earlier sins?) but I was living with something I could not control. That manifested in overwhelming OCD which I dealt with before but took on a life of its own.

All around me I only saw pregnant women and babies. I wanted to join the club so badly, to do it right this time, but I was denied admission to that club.

All around me I heard it would happen. I finally accepted that sometimes things just do not work out. That is when I started to rethink my personal policy on giving freely platatudes in situations I knew nothing about.

How could I tell someone that a child lost was in a better place? Or that a medical situation will always get better…or any other number of circumstances. Sometimes life is pain and no amount of flowery words will take the pain away. I’m sorry but that’s a reality.

When someone wishes you a good day, most people mean it. I am not against the kind words spoken that are said in a way to try to brighten ones day. But when someone is in pain, a platitude can minimize said pain. Telling me to just wait, it will happened, made my grief feel unvalued.

Now I either say nothing or offer my sincerest help if needed. Just listening can bring more comfort than a string of pretty words.

Please do not misunderstand me, I love comforting words. I love inspiring words. I pray for a return to graciousness and civility. I’m speaking of those moments in one’s life when pain and grief and fear have veiled them. My grief was so much at one time, my words to others seemed hollow. I could only see my pain and felt as if it was marginalized. I cannot do that to others.

So for today I will be more conscious of those around me. I will think before I speak and will try to never demean a person’s experience no matter how unintentional.

So with that said, I wish you all a good day…and I really do mean it.

If you are in pain today, please find someone near you that you can talk to. You are NOT alone!

Words spoken as a lie are sweet to the ear. They ooze comfort because they are what we want to hear. I remember back in my youth, I so longed for someone to love me and sweep me off my feet…to carry me away from my depression and make everything better. For a time, I believed the lies I was told by those who wanted something from me. The possibility that what I was hearing were lies did not cross my mind until the lies were revealed. It did not take too long before I started to see those words for what they were. The feeling of being jaded washed over me followed by a crushing sadness.

Isn’t it easy to believe them? Isn’t it difficult to tell them? Lies and untruths are a bitter pill. We are surrounded by them today. Everyone screaming their truths, their version of the truth. Who is right and who is wrong? I got good at telling when I was being played by someone who had ulterior motives. The lie was easy to see once I stopped craving its sweetness. But today, the lies are not as easy to discern. In fact, some lies are not even sweet to hear. It can be so confusing.

I believe in the spiritual gift of discernment. That feeling in your gut that just doesn’t feel right when a lie is being told. The uneasy feeling you get when something doesn’t seem to fit. That is a gift we have inside us, but it has to be cultivated. You have to work at it in order for it to work. I feel I am pretty keen these days, but I have still been wrong. Mostly on the other side, I may be a little too suspicious. Better safe than sorry, I guess.

This is a perfect example of the confusion of today’s world. For example, I believe that the Bible sets my moral compass. Believe me, I lived using my own moral compass and that ended very poorly. I find comfort in the words written and images that play in my head. I believe it to be truth. Now the other side of the story is that a whole lot of people think those words to be bunk, lies, untruths. I will not sway from my beliefs, but neither will they. We live in a world that is turned around. I believe I am right, they believe they are right and there are others who have completely different opinions who believe they are right.

There are a lot of people who make a lot of money twisting the words of the Bible, twisting truths, making their own assumptions. How is a person, who just wants to do the right thing, supposed to know which way to turn? I wish I had an answer. The saying “perception is reality” has never been truer. What I perceive is different than what you are seeing.

What about facts? There are always experts on both sides now, telling us what we want to hear. Someone has to be wrong, but the reality is harder to find, harder to see. Facts are being twisted into lies and untruths under the umbrella of ultimate truth. That umbrella covers us all, but the rain still soaks us because there are holes in it, it is flawed.

How can one tell when an act or words spoken are unencumbered by expectations and/or ulterior motives? Not every good act requires some sort of return on investment, not every act or word spoken carries its own baggage, yet so many do and that is where the confusion really takes hold.

So as I type my ramblings, I realize that we are all very different. Even those who believe what I do have different scopes of view. Is it any wonder we have a hard time getting along with each other in this world today? I guess we have to live with our own truths, eat the truth sandwiches that are of our own making. Nothing is a cut and dry as it used to be (maybe it never was), so all I ask is that we, as a society, try a little discernment. Words that fly into our ears with the softness of sugar-coated rose petals are not necessarily truth. Nor are the words spoken in anger, full of hate and malice. I have been trying to come up with a way to end this post, but there is no ending that is one size fits all. There is no big bow on this package. Truth is being lost in a forest of lies, and it is hard to see those lies up close.

The world we live in is a difficult one. I am praying for everyone (whether you want me to or not) that we learn new ways to deal with all the information and misinformation being thrown at us on a daily basis. All the newfound experts in every field, all the research conclusions, all the papers written and all the speeches spoken are muddying the waters. All I can say is be careful out there and stay true to yourself.

I woke up this morning simply starving (not really, but extremely hungry). I walked into my very blessed kitchen to find absolutely nothing to eat. My stomach was really unhappy.

Oh I had food, just nothing that I could eat instantly. I could made eggs and toast, oatmeal, a smoothie or any number of other delicious dishes. But I would have had to make something. Since the Covid lockdown, I have started making my own dishes.

We used to eat out a lot. Or I would by something premade at the grocery store. Now I invest (money and health) in ingredients and not convenience.

We have made the commitment to not eat out and to eat more wholesome homemade meals. It has been life changing for our health and for our wallets. The amount we used to spending eating out, literally, makes me ill. Now I know why we were always broke and I was always sick.

But what about this morning. I’m low on energy and frankly patience. As I sit here pondering my options (in which time I could have made something already), I think about life in general.

My younger days were spent filling the never-ending hunger I felt inside. I fed myself lots of stuff that I could not afford, I feed myself alcohol and I feed myself with quick, easy and unhealthy food. The problem with all these things and many other self-medications is that the hunger never gets satisfied.

I was seriously addicted to food as a way to comfort myself. As I was eating an entire box of some unhealthy fare, I was thinking about when I would be able to do it again. So even as I was self-medicating I was already looking for the next time. Alcohol and smoking were the same. Always left unsatisfied and wanting more.

Buying things seemed like a safer way to feel better until the bills came that I could not afford. Then came the years of trying to outrun the wolves at the door. Shuffling money around, buying more things, eating more and secretly and drinking more. This went on for years and years. And I was still hungry.

I look back at those chaotic times and wonder how I ever got so far gone…so completely lost. My moral compass was broken, my inner bs was running the show and I was weak.

It took a complete life change to figure It out and years to implement. I was sick inside and out. I was so very tired. As John Mellencamp so eloquently put it, “life goes on..long after the thrill of living is gone.”

Today, although still a work in progress, I am centered more in my faith. God keeps me seeing what is really important. If you think that is a ridiculous concept, you are welcome to that opinion. But to me, it is not up for debate. I have thrown away many of the old crutches I used and am walking, albeit slowly, on my own. I’m working on myself.

I fell short a bit this week. That happens. We are all flawed. Life itself is flawed. But I’m just going to pick myself up, and try to be better today. That’s all I can do. Be a better person, for me there is no loftier cause.

As for today’s hunger, I won’t let it consume me. I’ll go to the kitchen and make an egg or two with some fresh veggies and that will nourish my body and my soul. Taking it slow and doing the right work is my fix today. It sure beats other addictions I live with.

I hope you find your truth and your peace today. I hope it’s not found in things but inside of you.