Until just a few years ago, I wouldn’t even introduce myself with my properly pronounced name because I didn’t want to make other people uncomfortable if they said it wrong.

I stayed in friendships with people who were being just plain mean and unkind to me.

Yea, I was a pretty intense people-pleaser. And very codependent. That translated into my romantic relationships, too, until I finally woke up and realized that I didn’t even know who I was anymore. I’ll share my story along with how I got through it, and what life is like for me now on the other side. My aim in sharing this is that my story can give you some hope if you or someone you love is also struggling.

A client recommended I see the movie The Founder—the story of how McDonalds came to be an internationally known fast-food chain. 

I’m glad I watched it. It definitely prompted some thoughts worth sharing.

I came out as a lesbian when I was 19. By then, I was a year into being clean and working a program of recovery. Being sober showed me that I’d hated myself the majority of my life, largely because I believed my sexuality was wrong, sinful, and abominable, and disgusting, and that I was all those things as a person, too. More than a decade later, I’m sharing my journey in how I came to accept myself and learn that there’s nothing worth sacrificing my authentic self for. And for you, dear reader, know that you are a beautiful human being, worthy of love and respect, regardless of your sexual identity. 

Rasberri had been taking care of both her mom and dad for the past 8 years as both of their healths were slowly declining. When her father passed, she had her mom with her at the funeral. Six months later, her mom died, and this time, she didn’t have either of her parents to help her go through the loss with.

Her mom was her best friend. People would even comment and call them twins, mistaking them for sisters. 

Luca,

I feel like you deserve a better momma than me. Because I feel like you deserve the best. That’s what my head tells me some days. Today was one of those. I know today is about you, not me, but man, I’m having a hard time here. 

I wanted to write you a song for your birthday, but I only got it half done. And I wanted to bake you a cake. But I just bought something from the barkery. And I wanted to go on a hike with you. But I knew you’d be limping in pain when we got back. And I wanted to take you anyway, just so I wouldn't feel so guilty for leaving you home on your birthday. But I didn’t. 

Dear Future Partner, 

I’ve been having really heavy dreams, lately. Nightmares. Sometimes I remember them, sometimes I’m just left with this vague fog, and it feels heavy. It’s like this huge emotional weight on my back that I can’t actually see, I just know that subconsciously, shit just went down. It’s like when you walk into a room where two people were just in the middle of a fight. You can just feel the tension in the air. Only it sticks with me all day.

It does get hard. I get lonely in some of those moments. I wish there was someone there to sleep next to, just to make sure I’m okay, someone to hold me through the night. Or someone I can hold onto, in those moments when I’m afraid. So I can keep myself from floating away.

And it's okay. I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m just saying, it’d be nice if you were already here, sometimes. It’d be easier. 

I was recently in NJ to spend a week with my friend Daniel who has prostate cancer. He’s also my sponsor, coach, mentor, and one of my closest friends.

Each morning we drove over an hour to his radiology appointment, grabbed some breakfast, maybe did some shopping, and came back home to recover and do it again the next day.

In each of those drives together, I kept wondering, how does someone face cancer and still be so full of life, hope, and joy? How do they not let it define them?

This was supposed to be a list of 100 but there was simply too much good stuff to try to condense it.

I feel like having a list like this actually makes the trip that much more real and tangible when I look back at it. It’s something I’ll probably continue for future trips. It’s those small moments that bring the experience back to life for me.

A list like this is a way I can bottle up those small, insignificant moments and jokes that brings the experience back to life for me. (Give it a try! And if you do, I’d love to see it.)

“Invite The Good In.”  That’s my phrase for 2023. 

When I say this, I picture a Sunday afternoon. It’s quiet, calm, and sunny. I’m standing on my porch, talking with a friend. And it’s one thing to have a nice conversation right there, on the porch. But it’s another thing to invite them inside: “Come in. Make yourself comfortable.”

I don’t understand this concept of “waiting to meet the right person.” I’m sorry (well, not sorry), but I’m not sitting around waiting for you. I have a whole life to live. I’m not putting my life on pause just because you’re not here. 

And I hope you’re not on pause waiting for me either. Wait on me? For what? To experience beautiful things? To chase your dreams? To take a chance? 

Listen, I’m dying to go on an African safari. To see elephants and tigers and giraffes. I cry just looking at my friends’ photos of their trips. I’m not going to wait up on you for that. Why would I?

I went to a Wim Hof Breathing and Ice Bath Workshop this weekend.

It’s kind of funny when I think of the concept of going to a breathing workshop. Breath is what makes me alive, and yet no one ever specifically taught me how to do it. Or how to harness the power of it. How my breath can change the state of my mind and body. We tend to just assume from the moment you're born that you’re breathing, so you must be doing it right.

I’ll share my experience with the workshop, as well as some of the things I learned about Wim Hoff, the breathing method and sound bath we experienced (okay I can’t wait and I’ll tell you now–the sound bath was absolutely beautiful), and the experience of my first dunk into an ice bath (definitely stick around to the end–you’ll love the story behind that part!).

Here’s the best Valentine’s Day gift I ever got—it was a card I wrote to myself 3 years ago. I was going through the hardest time in my life. It was a really hard breakup, I’d just moved out of my house, and life felt upside down.

That was the beginning of my new journey of self-love. I realized I’d been relying on a relationship to fill a void and validate who I was. And it would never be enough, until I learned how to give myself that love first. Here’s my Valentine’s letter to myself, from 2020.

Oh, the lives of dogs in Akumal. Where they don’t seem to need us.

But it just makes me wonder, pup, what it’d be like. If you had a person to love. A person who loved you back. A person who cared if you went missing. Who’d go out looking for you to make sure you were okay. Someone who would lose sleep trying to find you.

Someone who would check your throat for lodged bones. Someone who would itch that favorite spot on your back that makes your butt wiggle.

Oh, what it would be like.

You could be someone’s soul dog, you know. And they could be your favorite person. But maybe it just has to be in another life. When you’re born somewhere else.

I love doing this because it gives equal weight to each of the happenings of my year. Whether it was a huge deal or not, it still gets one line. It’s something that happened, and somehow, it’s changed me, or possibly just helped nurture along something that was already inside of me. Enjoy.

I’ve done enough work to realize that we all have shitty parts. I don’t expect you to be perfect. Please don’t expect that I am, either. No one ever sees the worst parts off the bat. We’re too busy seeing each other in those rose colored glasses. So I thought, let me save us both some time. I’ll just tell you about my worst parts, right off the bat, so you know what you’re getting into.

I think I’ve been running from you my whole life. As much as I say I want us to find each other and be together, my feet have been moving in the other direction turn after turn.

It’s like right when I get an inkling that I’m getting closer to you, my body pivots and turns away. And as I think back, I can see all these lies I’ve told myself to justify and fuel my running away.

“I don't need anyone.”

When I was a teenager, I never had those dreams and fantasies of having a life with someone I loved. I come from a divorced family, and no one in my extended family had what even closely resembled a successful relationship, so it wasn’t really something I wanted at all.

Intimacy? Let people get to know me? Never heard of it, no thanks. I was fine with just me, my drugs, some booze, and my journal. I was angry, and my refrain was “leave me (the fuck) alone.”

You know that innocent, “I can’t live without you, you complete me” kind of love? Yea, I used to want that, but not anymore. 

I want someone who knows the crushing feeling of heartbreak. Someone who has had to claw their way out from the depths of despair. Someone who has had to wonder if they’d ever not be sad again. 

Maybe you relate from when you first realized that who you thought was your person, actually wasn’t. Maybe from back when you said I do and then had to reckon with all the disentangling when you realized you don’t. Maybe your side never changed, but theirs did. Or, maybe, they’re not even here anymore to have a side. 

I borrowed this idea from Austin Kleon, who annually puts together a list of his top 100 things from that year. I instead of “top moments,” I prefer to just sum up as best as I can my year in 100 tidbits.

I love doing this because it gives equal weight to each of the happenings of my year. Whether it was a huge deal or not, it still gets one line. It’s something that happened, and somehow, it’s changed me, or possibly just helped nurture along something that was already inside of me. Enjoy.

1. Started physical therapy for a shoulder impingement

2. Tried cupping and dry needling (love it)

3. Went to a Korean Spa and walked around naked

4. Wrote a poem about being in love

5. Hiked the Manitou Incline in Colorado Springs, CO

Hi. It’s wild to think that you’re on the planet already. Like, you actually do exist, right now, as I’m writing this. That’s a wild concept. Cause now it feels like this energy I’m putting into this is actually going somewhere.

And to be honest, it’s scary to think it’s ending up all the way to you. There’s still some fear, for sure. Sometimes I think I need to be perfect before I can be in a relationship with you. I know that’s not true. I’m just tired.

I hope you like napping like I do. Or– if you like cooking! Omg, if you like cooking, and you cook while I take a nap, I think that’s all we’ll need. Because I will wake up with such appreciation and gratitude and shower it all upon you. If you’re having a bad day or feeling down about yourself, just make me food while I’m sleeping and I’ll make sure you know EXACTLY what type of rockstar you are when I wake up.

On New Year's Eve, these two friends of mine will be celebrating 20 years of marriage.

I recently got to spend a long weekend with them in Chicago, and discovered an interesting answer to the question of, “How do y’all make it work after so long?”