The No Loving Yourself Movement

I may never love the all of myself. Nor do I think I will wholly love any one part of myself. I don’t believe that I have to love myself in order to love others because I do know real love. I guess the part of myself I love is my patience with others, but even that can dissipate quickly. I have wondered when I can give up on self love and have people leave me alone about it. Luckily my partner does not need me to feel any type of way about me or about him as long as we sail along comfortably; for the most part we do. Maybe I should start a movement--YOU DON’T HAVE TO LOVE YOURSELF TO BE HAPPY! 

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I Just Can't Bear to Sing

I haven’t been able to sing a song at church since my dad died. Not one hymn, worship song, nothing has been sung aloud in over 3 years. There were Sundays when I would attempt to sing and tears would flow so fast and heavy that I would nervously wipe them away enough to get to the bathroom and avoid the rest of worship time. I grew to hate this part of church. I would go to the bathroom, pretend the baby needed something, get more water. Anything but having to stand there and bottle my emotions why others praised the lord with their voice.

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Fair Skies

My mother calls to tell me she has just seen Daddy in the clouds again. I am standing at my front door, saying goodbye to the plumber who has fixed my leaky toilet for the umpteenth time. As I write him a check he tells me the old toilet is past its prime and I laugh and say well I am too and I’m still here. And he laughs right back. Every time we do this.

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Liptauer

I was in college. The New York Deli had the most sublime Liptauer Cheese spread. Taking a glob on the knife and spreading it across a plain bagel until the flat surface was completely paved in its unctuous whiteness. Upon biting down, I was transported to 19th century Vienna. You could taste the court of Franz-Joseph, Emperor of Austria, hear Johann Strauss’ waltzes – a world of refinement and pre-war grace. I loved the stuff.

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My Irish Eyes

Right now... I am sitting in the courtyard of a stable converted to living quarters, our housing for the week. A stone exterior frames a bright blue door, one of many brightly colored doorways in Ireland, predominantly red. It feels like optimism brightening the doorway of an otherwise grey facade. It feels like her people. There’s a cheerfulness everywhere, easy going, never stressed, always a kind word or turn about into a subtle joke making me smile. Underneath there’s a vein of sadness, from where I don’t know and can only speculate.

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Very Afraid

The writing prompt is to write of a time when I was very afraid.  What shall I choose?  When did I start feeling afraid as a child?  When did I realize that something was not right, not safe, with my mother?  Is a "time when I was very afraid" my whole life?  No, because I'm no longer very afraid.  Or maybe I am, actually!  I have certainly found ways to cope with the fear that started early on!  Very afraid.. that word "very" in front of afraid causes me to pause.  What qualifies as very afraid?

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What is Life in 10?

Someone recently asked me what L10 is. Ironically, I was at a loss for words. At least the right words to say at that moment. Because there are not enough words to describe what L10 is. But here, on this page, in 10 minutes, I will try to do it justice.

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