You can’t carry it with you if you want to survive

Choppy waves, a cool breeze and open blue skies. It feels good to breathe and sky gaze. (Thank you.)

Scanning through the channels on the radio, this muggy and cloudy morning.
Florence and the Machine – Dog Days are Over. I turn it up, roll down the windows, breathe in the scent of freshly cut grass and honeysuckle.

You can’t carry it with you if you want to survive…

I want to survive. I want to do more than survive, I want to thrive.
I want to excel. I want to live life lit up.
I want to feel.
I want to feel the joy and the pain and the frustration and the illumination of it all.

I want to live deeper and deeply and with reckless breath and full-speed laughter.

You can’t carry it with you if you want to survive…

I know I’m carrying around things that are preventing that.

With every Facebook search for the boy I had a crush on in third grade.
Every time I look up the boy whose heart I was careless with to apologize.
Every time I look up the boy who told me he never loved me and never would.
Every time I make sure the girl who traumatized me as no one else has is not online.
Every time I look for someone and can’t find any trace of them.

You can’t carry it with you if you want to survive…

Every time I look up old blogs.
Every time I read the only old journal I still have.
Every time I look at the postcards from the boy I wish I was still friends with.
Every time that email address auto-fills in GMail.
Every time I hide someone on Facebook rather than just unfriending them.

You can’t carry it with you if you want to survive…

Letting go, letting go, shedding each of these things as best I can and breathing in.

I want to thrive, I want to glow, I want to move on and let go and live more and love harder.

Holding onto to things, to the past, with such clenched fists disallows that.

I don’t want to still hear his voice say he would never love me.
I don’t want to still see her words on the screen.

But I do, sometimes.
It’s hard to let go of the things that scarred you, sometimes.

Other times, it’s easy, it’s releasing, it’s taking a breath and whispering goodbye and good riddance.

But. I know that I want the joy and the illumination more than I want the past.

It can be a scary thing, reaching for what is and could be with both hands.

But as Kate says, here’s to feeling the fear and doing it anyway.

Because presence is priceless

The way we interact with social media can be a tender subject, so I want to preface this post with a statement. I’m writing this with care and from my own experiences. I’m not writing this in a judgmental way or a holier-than-thou way. I’m writing this because it’s an important topic and I think we need to establish a dialogue around it. You all know I got nuttin’ but love.

That photo up there? It’s a photo of all of my many profiles on various social media platforms: personal Facebook page, Roots of She fan page, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Vimeo, LinkedIn, and Google+. (I shoved the LinkedIn or Google+ pages to the bottom of the screen, I did that on purpose because I have a serious hate on for those sites, they’re so clunky.)

A story: Around the time my day-job was social media, when I was leaving Kind Over Matter and creating Roots of She, I didn’t have a healthy relationship with anything surrounding the Internet.

I was online all of the time, I was constantly checking Facebook and Twitter, I was accepting every friend request on Facebook, following everyone who followed me on Twitter. I loved the hit of adrenaline I got when I saw new notifications because it made me feel important and also like what I was saying had value.

Then I got caught up in the numbers game of it all, I wanted more and more, like once I hit a certain number of whatever, it meant I was a success or I had arrived or I was validated. And that’s all such bullshit, I see that now, I’ve seen it for a while. But that’s where I was at, that’s what my relationship with it all was like.

I pinned and at-replied and hashtagged until… I was exhausted. It all was just so exhausting. To be online all of the time, to feel like I was missing out on something if I wasn’t online, to keep comparing myself to other people who used XYZ website to do whatever it was they were doing.

I realized I wasn’t using social media with thought and care and intention, I was just desperately trying to keep up with everyone else. I was trying to be the places where everyone was because those were the places I thought I needed to be.

I wasn’t being me when I was online, I was being who I thought everyone wanted me to be, who I thought I should be.

I started to notice that I was online I was really just phoning it in, I had scheduled so many things to post throughout the day, but I wasn’t present there at all. I was faking it, and that really isn’t my style. Everything felt so confused but this:

Presence is priceless, it’s one of the greatest gifts you can give. And I had stopped giving it.

I took a (rather large and necessary) step back and evaluated why I even was using Facebook or Twitter or [insert social media platform here.] I came up with this.

I use social media because:

  1. I crave deep connection with the people I care about.
  2. I’ve found so many kindreds through the randomness that is the Internet and that makes me happy.
  3. I appreciate the ease social media can bring as far as staying in touch with people.
  4. And I use social media because it’s fun.

I wasn’t showing up in a way that felt real and good to me.
Social media wasn’t fun anymore.
So I changed everything.

I needed something smaller, more intimate – something that felt cozy.

Using so many different platforms, having so many people in the feed for each of those platforms – it was overwhelming. I couldn’t connect with anyone because I was trying to connect with everyone. I wanted to build connections with people and I wasn’t able to do it. At all.

So, I unfriended and unfollowed a lot of people. The people I went to grade school or high school with, a lot of the people I went to college with. The old neighbors and most of my old roommates. The people I rarely talked with, the people I had never talked with. The people I just plain old didn’t like but had connected with because I didn’t know how to say no.

Let me tell you, it felt really good – letting go of the pressure of how I thought I should act, letting go of all of those people I hadn’t connected with, letting go of all that pent up stress and need for perfecting the Jenn Gibson brand (whatever that is). I felt so much lighter.

Then, I looked at all of the places I had accounts and if it didn’t make me feel good, I stopped using it.

What I kept: Facebook and Instagram.

No more LinkedIn. No more Google+. No more Pinterest. And less Twitter.

And now it feels right.

So every time I update anything now, I take a deep breath and pause to make sure my intention is really my intention and not what I think it (or I) should be.

So every time I update anything now, I’m offering the gift of presence and attention and an unvarnished me.

So every time I update anything now? Yeah, I’m having fun and showing up and using my own gorgeous voice because it’s enough exactly the way it is.

So every time I update anything now? It just feels good, it’s just fun.

How has the way you use social media changed over time? How does it still tickle your fancy? What makes you want to pull your hair out? How does it make you feel?


I’m participating in a social media conscious blog hop, hosted by the lovely Heather Day.

New stories will run through May 30. Hashtag it up with #socialmediaconsciousness on Twitter and Instagram.

Let’s talk, let’s converse, let’s explore this together.

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What my aching heart needed me to do

Oh, dear heart.

By the time Friday rolled around last week​​​, I was wrung out and heart-weary. The atrocity of the Boston bombings, the explosion and all of the deaths at the Texas fertilizer ​plant, a recording of one little girl’s voice pitched high with terror,​ ​the death of one of the bombers and the capture of the other.​

Going to sleep with stories of horror, waking up to stories of horror – it was just so much. So when I got home from work Friday, I just wanted to check out for a while, go to sleep, ignore the world and bundle up in my own little sanctuary.

Instead, I did a little bit of both, in the form of handling necessities and playing in luxuries.

The necessities

Necessities were things that I wanted to do to ensure some peace of mind, things that while I could tick off on a to-do list, I didn’t and wouldn’t. Necessities were should-free and judgment-free, soul-filling and mind-easing.

Evicting the rascal birds from my gutters: A group of rascal birds yet again took up residence in my gutters. I called the man who installed them when I got home Friday about it, he came over that night and fixed it all up.

Washing the day away: The first thing I did when I went inside was (after scritching and scratching Beanie’s little back) was take a hot shower. Thank you.

Facetime with the fam: We went out to dinner at this little tavern down by the bay. It was wild and stormy outside, but we were tucked away inside, and when the lights flickered and wavered, it only added to the fun of it all. I had pizza and red wine, we sat around talking and laughing for two hours. Thank you.

Unplugging, in my own fashion: It was a given that with all of the information overload and digital overwhelm from the week that I’d be doing some sort of unplugging. I didn’t check email, Facebook or Twitter and removed those apps from my phone, I didn’t check CNN or any news sites. I ignored everything except for Instagram and Words with Friends because those are soul-nourishing and fun, respectively.

Naps: Naps restore me. One of my favorite things to do is to snuggle down on the couch under a blanket and drift off. Thank you.

Finally, finally, freaking finally revising #breathepeace. I have it all either handwritten or in my heart ready to come out but I've really been resisting sitting in front of a computer when I get home. Today was the perfect day to begin (again).
The blue skies are inching towards opening up above the bay, but right now it's all still so gray and moody and soft.
I love Curious George.

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Flower power!

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The luxuries

My list of luxuries were things that I don’t make enough time to focus in on. As a result, when I indulge in luxuries, I freaking indulge in them, savor them, taste them in my mouth and roll their favor around on my tongue. They feel that good and decadent.

Shaving my legs: For me, shaving my legs is the ultimate luxury.

Staying curled up in bed until I wanted to get up: I’ve shared my love of moving slowly, but one thing it normally doesn’t include is staying in bed until my body is ready to begin the day. Staying wrapped up and warm and sleepy in bed, mmm, it was such a treat. Thank you.

Playing: In the library by reading Curious George books and Babar books, sinking into the moodiness of the bay and laughing at the ducks’ hijinks, watching Beanie act silly. Blasting songs by Muse and Soft Cell and dancing in my car like a boss to Thrift Shop and laughing when people watch me do it. Thank you.

Naps: Yes. Naps are a necessity and a luxury. It’s just how I roll.

Revamping Breathe peace: I’ve been wanting to revamp Breathe peace, offer it as an e-book but also bring it back as an e-course. Saturday I opened up a blank Pages document and went at it.

Playing in the garden: My dear sweet mum and I went to Home Depot and got flowers and herbs and barrels and dirt! I got my hands so dirty and in the end brought up one barrel filled with flowers (daisies! dahlias! plants I forgot the names of!), one barrel overflowing with herbs (lavender! pineapple sage! rosemary!), and one bit pot of sage for inside.

How are you taking care of you these days, hmm? How are you today?

Wishing you peace,

What my Fear Block needed to say to me

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I woke up to a gray and rainy sky one morning and I felt pissy and cranky and small. There was a huge knot of anxiety in my heart and belly and the only thing – the ONLY thing – I wanted to do was stay at home, wrap myself up in a blanket and nap with Beanie.

The thought of having to go to work, interact with people, smile, talk – it did absolutely nothing for me. Well, that’s not true, it made the anxiety and irritation blow up ever bigger inside of me.

I’d had nightmares for hours the previous night, waking up drenched in sweat, trying to shake it off (and sleep it off) and then waking up terrified from more bad dreams.

It took me a while to realize that the anxiety I was experiencing was a fear response. It was all of the fear from the dreams manifesting in my body. It was a group of worries that I internalized that wanted to come out.

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Fear is not a bad thing, it’s a means of self-protection. Sometimes, though, you don’t need to be protected. What you need is to listen to what’s happening inside of you, switch off your mind and really sink into your body.

After I cycled through to that thought, I pictured what my fear wanted me to do. I pictured myself sitting down with my fear block and asking it what it wanted me to do: stay home, be warm, feel safe, feel loved.

I sat and looked underneath the fear – what were the needs sitting underneath its surface? What was it I really wanted?

To feel safe, to feel cozy, to feel loved.

I could meet those needs in other ways, in healthier and more healing ways, than by staying at home.

To feel safe: I sat and talked with the fear inside of me, with the pieces that were still feeling the nightmares. I repeated You are here, you are safe over and over until that mantra became a meditation.

To feel cozy: I wanted the soft feeling of a blanket wrapped around me so I wore a long, soft sweater to work and super fuzzy knee socks.

To feel loved: I remembered that I am always surrounded with and by love, that the Universe is cradling me in the palms of her hands. Constantly. Without fail. I am loved.

When you’re able to break down the fear or stress or anxiety, you can begin to meet the needs that are underneath it.

When you can sit with the fear, you can begin to work through it and let it go.

When you listen to what’s going on inside of you, you can take a step toward healing.

It’s hard. It’s taken me so many years to get to this space. But it can be done. It can be done.

So, I went to work and was quiet for a while until one of my co-workers got me laughing so hard and loud. Until I looked out of the window and the sun was shining so brightly. Until I turned on Spotify radio and listened to songs that made my heart sing.

Until I knew in my bones that because I slowed things down that morning and checked in with myself and listened to my Fear Block, I won. I was the victor. I got the spoils.

What did she say to me? She say Listen to me. I need to be heard.

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For the past several days, I’ve been building a physical representation of my Fear Block, something I’d been wanting to do since I worked with Tara, who coached me through some really powerful and intense and beautiful things. I had put off creating it because crafts really aren’t my thing, it’s something I’m not good at and I wanted my Fear Block to be perfect.

But perfection is overrated and just trying something is sexy and empowering as hell. So I got out the supplies I’d had tucked away in my closet for over a year and started painting. I went to the store and got some crazy bright and fun yarn and tiny rosebuds and a square of cloth to use for hair and eyes and a dress.

Because the fear is mine, because it’s a part of me, I wanted it to have crazy hair, messy, and fun – she even has dreadlocks. Well, one lock, but it’s a beginning. (And beginnings are beautiful.) I wanted it to be color-coordinated because I color-coordinate the mess out of my clothes. So her hair is bright orange and her dress has bits of orange and gorgeous brown and her eyes are bright pink rosebuds and match tiny pieces of the cloth. Her “skin” is sky blue because the sky is so pretty.

Because fear doesn’t have to be overwhelming and horrible, because the messages you can glean from the things that scare you, whether rational or irrational, can change your life or maybe just your day but that’s something, something huge.

Because fear can be your friend, because if you treat it with care and concern and respect, if you listen, you will learn. If you listen, you can heal pieces that were chipped or torn.

I named her Franny. Franny the Fear Block. And we are going to be great friends.

Franny the #fearblock

The prayer on my lips

Two things:

One: I feel joy, so deep inside of me, it’s entwined with each breath I take.

Two: I’ve noticed over the past several months the words thank you and I’m so grateful for… have been pieces of my daily conversations.

In the beginning I would say thank you when I had a rough day, the whole trying to see the silver lining bit. And since so many of them were rough days, I got to say thank you quite often.

Even though today sucked so hard, thank you for the falling rain and snuggling down with a book.

Even though I got a rejection email, thank you because I didn’t really want to work there to begin with.

Even though I spent the entire day locked up in fear, thank you for the comfort of a blanket and soft clothes.

They always started with even though – today was bad, but here is what I’m grateful for.

Then quietly, slowly, every day, it was just thank you. The more I said thank you, the easier it became.

For the gut-busting laughs with my brudder, I thank you.
For the times Beanie curls up next to me, I thank you.
For the meals that nourish me, I thank you.

For the sunset, I thank you.
For the chimes’ songs, I thank you.
For the ease of this breath, I thank you.

For this life, I thank you.

If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, “thank you,” that would suffice.
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Meister Eckhart

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Does that mean that everything’s all better now? No, of course not, life’s messy. I’m working through another round of flare-ups with the auto-immune disease, paying off the credit card I ran up when I was in-between jobs, and dealing with a steady buzz of anxiety.

But those things can’t touch my joy because my joy is rooted in gratitude.

For the silly moments, I thank you.
For the mess, I thank you.
For the quiet early morning moments, I thank you.

For the love, I thank you.
For the worry, I thank you.
For the frustration, I thank you.

For this life, I thank you.

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Thank you is the never ceasing prayer on my lips.

And this is my collection of gratitude photographs, capturing the moments when I am so overwhelmed by the beauty of it all that I can’t help but say thank you.

This is where I was standing, rooted inside of gratitude, rooted inside of joy.

Thank you.