These are the ways you can love yourself.....

I'll sleep in. Just one more hour.... snooze button pressed. I can skip yoga for the day, I said. Heart heaving. Bad decisions. Raw text messages. Lifted the veil, to reveal the tawdry parts that embarrassed me. Guilt, thick and distinct like gasoline at the pit of my stomach... why did you do that, why did you do that....

Reluctantly, I pulled myself up, imaginary strings attached to my shoulders, lifting me out from my lackluster. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Release it and move on. Thirty minutes later, on my mat, staring down at my newly manicured sparkling turquoise toes (a color chosen for the very specific reason that it was a silly color), I said.... see, this is how you love yourself.

Feeling anxious, letting my unnecessary panic decide the course of my day is not an option. Getting up and going anyway, while your insides spin out of control. Holding the pose all the way through, when your mind teases you, telling you you can't. Staying when you want to run somewhere called "safe," but really it's just somewhere hidden. These are the ways you can love yourself.

I stared at the list, of my "to-dos" none of which included my "to-enjoys," and while en route to check off the items, I found myself instead in a bookstore, cranking my neck up to the ceiling seeking Hafiz, words that would ground me. I walked away with Rilke, anthologies and a cappuccino. These are the ways you can love yourself.

I told the cute boy at the check out who never smiles back, that I had spent most of the day laying on the floor painting a brown jewelry box pink and writing myself Valentine's Cards with crayons.... he cracked a smile and said he didn't like Tuesdays. Not a total success, but at the very least I had now revealed that I was a little odd, which is, I like to think...a little charming and truthfully, I just wanted to talk to someone. When you want to talk, talk. Tell people stories, without them asking first. When you have extra sequins, make Valentine's. Have sequins, in fucking general. Smile at the stranger who never smiles back anyway, these are the ways you can love yourself.

Not checking the time, or worrying about email. I sat outside and I listened. I paid attention to where I was. To the man that was reading an article about tacos for a solid 45 minutes, which meant he wasn't reading at all but that was probably listening too. I listened with him, I wonder if we heard the same things? Ask yourself questions. Eat tacos. Wonder what a 60 year old man wearing White Converse sneakers does with his days? Imagine that he's a cartoonist, with a propensity for Pez and a collection of rare flutes. Make up funny images in your head. These are the ways you can love yourself.

I watched the couple that walked holding hands, buzzed from bottomless mimosas, still fluttering, they kissed by the car. Innocent, sweet. She left. He walked back, holding a bag of oranges and bundles of greens. I watched him smile and thought, how lovely that I got to witness how happy he is... I wonder if she can feel him smiling. Ten minutes later he walked back the other direction, this time with a friend, retelling his day, erupting with optimism. "We went to the market, then we had lunch...it was a five. hour. date." He was beaming. A lucky moment to observe, that I would have missed had I been texting. Or checking Twitter.

Tell your friends the details. Grin that kinda silly grin. Feel insanely thrown off your game, then let the amount that you keep it cool be ZERO, let someone in and let them make you feel completely exhilarated, these are the ways you can love yourself.

When you can walk, but feel like driving.....walk. When you have lingerie, wear it. When you find your favorite poem, read it four times in a row out loud....record yourself reciting it and listen to your pretty feminine voice. Hear yourself the way other people do. Eat a spoonful of frosting, test your guilt meter and tell it actually fuck off. Make a purchase in anticipation for something....for instance, I bought a full length beaded gown. Yes, beaded. gown. With no where to wear it.... I anticipate that won't be the case for long.

When you want to look soft, like the girl who wants to open her heart to you....the girl who wants to stay up late and tell you about the recurring dream of her and the moon, then whisper to you some of her most tender admissions.... be that girl now, you don't have to wait for someones acknowledgment to unfold. Unfold. These are the way you can love yourself.

When you feel like life is wrapping its fingers around your spirit, clenching its fists around you energetically, placing its strong hands on top of your head in an attempt to say, "stop. growing." push back. It's a test. When you wonder if you're invisible, or perhaps no one will love you or see you, or that you may have to compromise your spirit because, "that's just life".... remember that the ground beneath you will always support you, that the heart that's beating inside of your chest is always your steady companion and that your life is YOURS, that you decide your shine, the only person who can switch on/off INNER LIGHT, is you. These are the ways you can love yourself. Light, on.

Listen to Joni and Whitney, Carole and Patty. Sing out loud. Create for the sake of creating, whether anyone sees it or not. Dance naked, feel ridiculous and awesome at the same time. Admit you need to be held and touched and don't feel sorry about it. Tell your friends you need alone time, make less excuses and make more truthful declarations. Tell yourself you look nice today. Spend an extra ten minutes on something. Wave at a baby. Tell someone ELSE that you think they're beautiful if you're thinking it, even if you're out at a loud bar where everyone is trying to act cool, but everyone really needs someone to tell them, "you already are." Read people's name tags, look them in the eye. Dorothy, at Gelson's made my day. What a great name.... follow the yellow brick road.

Remember that the judgements you make towards yourself are harsh, unnecessary and tactless. That you pretty bird are a delicate, extraordinary miracle. Speak accordingly.

...these are the ways you can love yourself.

How will YOU love yourself?

The things I'm saying to myself..... minus all of the things I say to myself about Beyonce. That's another blog post.

You will be compelled to act, when you are meant to.

The nudge, the "go on now...." the stumble into action, the 1. 2. and jump before you can reach 3.... you know the difference between the times you've made calculated decisions and the times a seemingly imaginary force shoves you..... you will be. compelled act, when you are meant to.

.... so give yourself a little bit of a break, really. Conserve your brain fuel, it is a precious.

This moment, is just that- a moment in your life, it isn't your WHOLE LIFE so all the over generalizing and dramatic statements about what this moment means for your future are probably premature, this. moment. is a screen cap, a blip, a 3 minutes in a 90minute picture.... even if it isn't the moment you want to be IN, you're in it, so savor it. Chew on it. Wring it dry.

Pick up every crumb with the tip of your index finger, because after THIS moment, you'll be wrapped up in another one and I can almost guarantee you'll have a bought of amnesia and romanticize what it is you're so desperately trying to run away from right this second.

They're all good. Minute 6, minutes 9-15... there's all different pictures though, right? With different angles and different lighting, making one. whole. So like the frame you're in...even if you're discouraged by it, because it's a part of your whole story and this is YOUR STORY. It would be helpful for you to stop pretending that you get a take two.... within the same lifetime, anyway.

Where you're at right now is preparing you, polishing you. Causing friction so that you are fucking. smooth. when it's showtime. In fact, you're studying for something and you don't even know what yet, find odd comfort in that. The surrender. The, "ah...I remember seeing that somewhere..." or "that's so funny, because I was just reading about that..." Nothing is coincidence. No thang.

Sometimes, it's as simple as this- you're just feeling a little blue. When you give it a name, "I'm having a Sad Balloon kind of day," it's a lot easier to let go of. But, I promise, it's easy to make feeling a little blue, feel like a whole fucking monsoon of gray, gray, gray has attacked you.... just keep talking about it. If you really need to go there. Or hey, maybe don't.

Oh and you should know this, but for the record, you should probably stop giving a shit about that guy. You know why? Because you're really fantastic and you should never need to convince someone of it. Bye. bye.

You're a dime plus ninety nine.

Forgive yourself. Stop feeling guilty about feeling guilty.

Smile inwardly, at yourself and then out to Universe.

There isn't anyone reminding you to take care of yourself anymore... so, set your boundaries- what do you need? What do you NEED? Fuck what everyone is saying you can/can't do; peers, family, friends, work... do what you know will make you FEEL GOOD. Look out for yourself.

Leave earlier. Leave later. Operate from that which you KNOW, that soul stuff, even if it isn't fast or convenient enough for your current circumstances.

Take space. Have another. Refrain. Slow down. Ask. Confess. Save some of what's left over for your own little feast.

Don't let them convince you otherwise. Honor your intentions. Don't make excuses just to be nice, it isn't nice if it isn't truthful. To yourself, or to anyone else. Spend time feeling insanely sexy, even if no one is around to see it. Especially then.

Do you. Repeat times ten.

It's all okay.

How do you take CARE of your spirit? What do you tell yourself?

Familiar things. Insomnia and....where are all the men in this town?

“Can we take a nap?”

They were the first words that spilled out of my mouth when we saw each other, in our comfortable familiar place, with familiar sounds, of puppies nails on the kitchen floor scurrying to give me a nuzzle around my ankles. It was a home where I’d spent days and hours working from the study, digging into the homemade granola that tasted different because they kept it in the fridge (and I liked it that way, because it was how they did it) making myself egg sandwiches and sifting through pictures of him as a little boy.

It was a home where I’d fallen in love with his family, where we’d had our first fight, where I napped. Because I felt safe enough there.

The energy I’d exerted, working myself up to be in his presence again without falling to pieces was enough to take me out for a week. With his basement windows, covered, 2pm sunlight aching to break through…. I could’ve hibernated there for the rest of the year. A year that I was so terrified of letting go of, because I knew that what was to come would be new and different and perfect, but every event, every holiday, every weekend and milestone would occur without him in it, or with him but a different "him." Valentines day would come again, as would summer, BBQ’s and St. Patty’s Day… Monday afternoon and Friday morning and all of them, unlike the memories before would be missing something familiar.

“Yes, we can do that….” He said, the outline of his shape so acquainted with the outline of mine and how we fit. I wanted him somewhere familiar. Somewhere that I was used to having him. In bed. Comfortably. Guards down. Equal playing field.

So we napped. We napped, because I wanted to trick myself for an hour, or two, or however long I could stay asleep- into thinking that we were “Us” and that life would SLOW for me. Those two seconds when you open your eyes and forget that the landscape has shifted. I wanted two seconds.

See, I have trouble sleeping a lot of time, he was always sort of my, “Sleep Whisperer” he told me stories, or he talked me out of nightmares- often, ones that I had about him- when I was asleep I was safe. Just the presence of him, the rhythm of his breath and the warmth of his body was enough to lull me….somewhere else. Somewhere cosmic and uninterrupted. It was the time that I trusted him the most, because he wasn’t meddling, or planning, or seeking someone different.

We were Us and we were simple. Sleeping.

Often holding hands, on our backs. Our different languages didn't get in the way and fuss with things, there.

I hadn’t seen him in months and we complicated things by using too many words anyway (something I'm guilty of more often than not), conversation could wait... I just wanted to nap. So we did.

It's odd, actually- It’s been surprisingly easy and uncomplicated- but quite possibly the most profound and complex situation I’ve ever found myself in all at once. It’s like, centuries ago in different lives when we were both kings and queens, paupers and peasants, we fulfilled our promise to one another, to love forever and ever and ever….and this time around, it just wasn’t in the cards. But, our souls still know the difference….

When he’s in trouble, on some Greyhound, on some quest for his Higher Self through alchemy and crystals, meditation circles and smoke signals, in the middle of the desert, running away….I text, “Are you okay?”

When I’m looking at the pack of cigarettes on my kitchen table, a nasty habit we formed together, my phone buzzes and says, “….Don’t smoke cigarettes ☺….”

When my heart is so full, so aching, so overwhelmed- he says, “I’m going to shine 33 seconds of light on you….” and for 33 seconds I feel just a little bit better.

We’re so obviously not meant to be with one another- but we still….just. love. So much.

He knows, he KNOWS how much I want the whole “dream.” I want a partner. I want an equal. I want my prince to look me in the eye and say, “let’s do this THING.”

Enough time has gone by now that I see what it is that I want. The problem is, I can easily find men who fill in categories where he was lacking…. I can find missing “pieces”- but it isn’t “missing pieces” that’s the goal. It’s the whole thing.

He knew…that I was shiny. He saw that I shined. While, now…. I can barely get a boy who I have a crush on to return a text message?

He knew that I existed in both simple and complicated frames of mind at the same time, that I was equal parts ambition and dedicated lover. That I was lay-down-in-the-middle-of-the-mother-fucking-train-tracks for you, loyal, but never. Ever. A doormat.

That I was worth being treated like a fucking goddess, but not to feed ego, or pride or some chicky insecurity, but because I would treat HIM like a my counterpart and that together we were celestial, powerful and treasured, because WE valued each other. We said without saying, “I see you.” Soul understanding, ya see?

He knew that I would be a mother who picked two books every night, acted out ALL THE VOICES…. and always stretched “bedtime” with room for two more…..

He knew that I was “too much…” but he would never want me to operate and FEEL like I was. LIGHT IS NOT MEANT TO BE DIMMED DOWN OR DIMINISHED.

So, while we can nap and love one another, in different times and spaces, presently and nostalgically- he’s still a boy. On a journey, one different than mine. We were a We once, but now we aren’t and the times that I want to say, “I wish you were here…” and he says, “I’m exactly where I need to be.” I know that he’s right.

….and I guess, so am I. Exactly where I need to be.

I just wonder, will anyone else ever see me… through a lens as transparent as his….or, will they even try?

WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT TODAY.....?

Look around Little Dreamer......

It's interesting what you see when you decide to view it from another angle.

...Like, right now- I'm sitting on the floor of my childhood bedroom, a floor I've cried on, meditated on, made love on (sorry Mom, Hi Dad, sorry.) On this floor, I'm usually facing one direction- towards where the door is, but tonight- I'm facing another wall.... again, a wall I've stared at a million times- I see different parts of Me from here.

There's a stack of sheet music under my bed, for instance- one book has a 100 songs, the other about fifty plus. I've only sang, mmm, 25? There's a birdhouse, an unpainted one. Some dried up paints.... one of my Great Grandmother's vintage feathered hats....

There are two canvases hanging on the wall, from when I went through the inescapable "painting phase," that us adolescent creative-types experience, despite actual talent for it. On them are pictures of Janis, Jimmy, Mick and lyrics from soul songs.

...To my left, a present from last Christmas that I never took out of the box, it feels like I received it yesterday. Apparently, "I'll do it later..." i.e. take-present-out-of-box, never happened- just like a lot of the things I say I'll "do later..." don't happen, not out of lack of caring, but out lack of attention to what you know matters to you. Painting silly futile bird houses. Singing all 100 of those songs. Caring for your gifts, pun intended and not intended, I suppose.

A guitar case. A portfolio from an old flame. Bunnies. Records. A painting of a little pixie girl blowing kisses to a group of canaries. A Writers Market book. Lanyards. A dreamcatcher. TREASURES AND PROJECTS...always projects, only treasures. Shall we go on a treasure hunt?

A vintage camera. Folders upon folders of poems and scripts, monologues, essays- most of which I've written, or studied and fell in LOVE WITH. Words and stories that nursed me, that I wanted to tell and live through.

An Andy Warhol wig. A bulletin board covered in mini-accomplishments; show fliers, ticket stubs, postcards and a little painting of a field full of poppies given to me from a painter in Florence. A room painted crimson red and beige, with obnoxious red splotches on the ceiling from stubbornly deciding to paint the room myself, damnit. A reminder of determination and brave choices.

See, when you forget who you are....you just have to look around.

I never know how to handle New Year's. It's always a little melancholy to me. I don't want to let go of the things that morphed me through the year, the people and the experiences that GREW ME.

For being a Gypsy you think I'd be better at Goodbyes.

I put an incredible amount of pressure on myself, where I'm going, where I've been...if I'm "on the right track." Peering too far ahead makes me all... disappointed in myself. No matter my accomplishments and that has to stop. This is my dream, why wouldn't the things I dream within it be a reality....if it's all the same thing?

This last year was so full, to the brim and while I've been home all of that unsettled stuff has tapped gently on my shoulder and reminded me that it still has a presence, that it lingers. That sometimes all you need is to see a glimpse of what "was" and all the dots connect again. The familiarity rushes back, the shape and structure of him, of it, of us and me, of hoping. They all... fit, still.

A reminder that the past and the present aren't separate from one another and that what I WENT through is still what I'm going through and most importantly that who I was, is who I AM, even when I am changing.

I'm not one for resolutions, because I like to actively remind myself, daily to find RESOLVE, FORTITUDE AND INTENTION. So, I'll say this much... look around when you feel off track. Look, Chels. Do you see yourself?

Do it often. Be picky about the things and the people that you keep because they will be your reminders. Light and dark exist at once. Bitter and sweet, are sometimes the most delicious combo. That all of it- the dreams, the past, the future are one. thing. Nothing is separate.

Make more time to let things sink in. Demand it. To really chew on something for awhile. To give attention and to make solid. REAL time for shenanigans and trifling.

..For Real Talk with your kaleidoscope mind and your little, little voice inside that big, big soul.

....find resolve in being GENTLE, in being kind. In being patient with your mishaps and your uneasy footing. Change is a graceful and clumsy dance, let it sweep you.

When I think from the beginning to end of where I started last year, when the clock struck midnight to where I'll end up at midnight, this year, I can say this- it's been more and it's been less, it's been unexpected in both good and bad ways, all of that existing within the same perfect whole. I've had dreams all year that I'm going to the moon, must mean that's exactly where I am.

This is your dream. Look around.

Getting to the ROOT of it all....

There’s this incredible tree, in front of my doorstep, that I marvel at everyday.

I just sort of sit and listen to it.

The way it moves, the way it lets the wind sort of take it and rustle its leaves. I don’t know what kind of tree it is, I don’t know how long it’s been there- but I know that it’s this magnificent organism that’s functioning, breathing, sustaining itself and there’s something about that, that I find incredible solace in.

There’s comfort in knowing that amidst the dis-order, there’s destined order and routine, the kind that doesn’t have any agenda, rather exists to remind you that when anything/everything falls you will still react to the wind, to the demands, to the seasons and you will grow anyway.

The tree lets the weather take hold of it and it still stands there, rooted, and oscillating yet steady.

This is sort of how I feel. About life. Being a part of this living, breathing, operating and cooperating organ, that is still strong and planted.

I have this thing, this thing in me that always tells me, “know more, learn me, BE more….” The other night over roasted Brussel Sprouts and San Bres I mentioned my desire to feel more adequate and equipped to create, share, and take in beautiful things; knowledge, literature, music, everything that I can sink my mind-teeth into and chew on and my dear friend Lisa, who, I’ll probably talk about here often- because she fell back into my life after years effortlessly and has since made me feel like I’ve come home to myself again- said, “You have to start with what you know…” or something along those lines, message being: delve deeper into what it is that already has a HOLD on you. And start from there.

I talk about this a lot, this whole “Bloom where you’re planted,” idea and as a natural gypsy with a suitcase packed by the door and an agenda for “the next thing” on the line at all times, I have to check back in and remind myself of what that actually means. Where are you planted? What are the things that make you bristle up with eagerness to BEGIN them, to be a part of them…. What turns that light, just a notch brighter?

I know myself, I’d like to think incredibly well. But, it’s always easy to forget- and there’s a difference between knowing yourself and BEING yourself.

The things that begin at the ROOT for me are:

Music, but not just any music- the music that wakes up the slumbering soul, the music that suggests you should “go there…” the music that suggests you should stand up, strip down the façade and just. Fuckin. Dance. The music that brushes against nerves and makes the heart pangs flinch into submission, the music that makes your chest cave in and hurt so good. My root is in utmost conviction, loyalty, and unwavering reliability as a friend, as a partner and as a family member. In knowing my damn priorities and not for a minute, second-guessing who and what is important and needs attention or care.

My root tap, tap, taps on my shoulder and says, “you’re going to do that someday….carry on…” my root reminds me that I am capable and intuitive, gifted and prepared.

My root is shamelessly a lover of the vices that make you feel good and in no apologies necessary, My Dear. My root is somewhere amongst the stars and the moon, castles on clouds and neck-bending beanstalks and all the ladders, spaceships, slingshots and time traveling machines that it takes to live in their company. My root whispers; connect, create, CHALLENGE, understand, observe, demand.

My root is in full transparency, no holds-barred, take it or leave it. With a side of, let’s all just get along and be those shiny, happy, people holding hands?

My root is in, “I don’t give a fuck, but please be gentle.” My root is in happy endings, once upon a time, There Once Was A Boy…. And dreams do come true, ya’ll.

My root is somewhere wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with a change of ridiculousness tucked away, just in case.

My root is somewhere in time wearing Pippi Longstocking braids, sitting around a card table with family playing Apples to Apples, drinking cheap beer and talking about love and babies, or politics, or babies, love and politics.

My root is always saying- be patient, be kind, be authentic, BE OPEN… and don’t forget to fall in love, even just a little, with something or someone everyday.

What does the ROOT of yourself tell you???

On being positively irresponsible and healthily selfish. There's also a Tiger involved.

I feel different.

It’s funny…. The days you think you’re supposed to feel different aren’t usually the days you do. Your birthday, usually just feels like another day and every year Christmas, Thanksgiving and Halloween inch further and further away from feeling special, especially without serious planning and allotted time for tradition and childlike enthusiasm (all of which seem to need a calendar date, otherwise they won’t happen.)

The days you’re supposed to feel a significant change aren’t real days, because change is subtle.

I was aware of the drastic changes that were happening but I was in emotional denial. Sure, I had played them out- I prepared, I packed, I said goodbye- but I wasn’t mindful of all the shifting beneath the surface. I didn’t foresee the emotional tectonic plates that were turning me into an entirely new continent and how much of me was subtly integrated into all of the details, the details that make up the BIG THINGS and by “how much” I mean…..everything. My entire makeup was defined by this lifestyle I’d created and I had gone so far away from what made me feel…..powerful and alive, for the sake of feeling secure and needed, that I’m now realizing what that means: there’s a lot of extra energy is inside of me.

There isn’t any “We,” there’s just a Me and when it’s just a YOU, you’re also the only one responsible for taking care of how you’re feeling. There isn’t a fallback, a default, an excuse- for lack of a better term, to not be doing everything in your power to FEED your happiness. To not binge on blissing the fuck out.

It’s all up to you sister. All that extra energy wants your attention….so what are you going to do with it?

Well let me tell you, I’m going to embrace it, recognize its force- which to be honest, is a little frightening at times- it’s like raising a house cat, then feeding it some Wheaties and realizing it’s a Tiger. But, despite not knowing what to do with a fucking Tiger, I will feel through every cell of my body what it means to be self sustaining, positively irresponsible, untethered, self- reliant. Selfish. Yeah, go on now Child, be a little selfish- it’s okay. You’re not a bad person.

In fact, I say INDULGE, INDULGE, INDULGE- in staying up too late, in reckless flirtation, in taking your time, in giving mixed signals because you like green and red, in holding cards, in lingering, in calling the shots, in tables set for one, in knowing YOUR decision is the right one and decisiveness can be quite a rush, in Pinot Noir, in Girlfriends Only time, in listening to a new story, in calling when I feel like it, in going for it….all of it.

I will indulge because I’ve just discovered that there’s been this bounty in front of me while I was busy foraging for food, on the wrong property. Thing is, this isn’t specific to LOVE this is specific to Living.

EXPECT MORE FROM PEOPLE and the energy they carry, bring, share- because making excuses for them won’t actually help them find their subtle shifts, the ones they need and you need, to wake up. To step up to version Rad.0 (mhm.) When there’s a million things on your to-do list, manage your extra oomph appropriately- surround it with the vibey responsiveness it deserves and you will sustain it. Notes, to self Chels.

But really, since I do have a thing for the L word….I feel different because I realize this….

….being in LOVE doesn’t have to be exclusive to being with A love, if you recognize that you are love.

Yeah.

Energy channeled.

When was the last time you felt "different...." and why?

Pay attention to your instinct. You've ALWAYS known....alternate title: I cannot be tamed and other wild things.

“What is not as it appears? What do I know that I wish I did not know? What of me has been killed or lays dying?”

You know those moments when you read something and it sort of makes your heart skip a beat? The ::gasp:: happens. Then, the “Oh fuck” stomach drop hits like a sucker punch? You know the times. The times when you understand why ignorance is bliss and you’re pissed that you can’t just remain fucking blissful? Yeah, well.

When I read that sentence, from Women Who Run with the Wolves- a book that, in my opinion, needs to be on the bookshelf of every woman, (especially the ones seeking to live free, wildly, BRIGHTLY)- I literally set the book down and decided to process, the way you grieve and mourn- visceral and rapidly.

For the most part- this whole breakup, I’ve dealt with gracefully. I’ve been respectful and supportive, put his needs in front of mine…I've been trekking up the HIGH. ROAD. Wearing shiny sunglasses, peering onward and West, sans rearview mirror. I was everything I’ve needed to be for the both of us, to transition into this new period with dignity and acceptance….. so yeah, all of that happened- then somewhere between a bottle of wine and Saturday night mass emails to friends about how/why we’ve broken up, my inner resentment and I had a little TALK. A little come to Jesus, if you will. Spoken through a megaphone entitled, “Pinot Noir and Truffle Fries.”

There were things that were happening between us that I’d let myself say, “this too shall pass…” To say any of the reasons why we split came out of “left field” and sneak attacked me, would be playing the victim card and that’s not my gig. That would be a lie that I told myself to cope and frankly, I don’t have time for nonsense and lying anymore. There were things that I’d convinced myself would be “okay forever, till death do us part,” things that, in hindsight, are so far from okay the Old Me looks like she’s heavy on the crack pipe. Somewhere between acknowledging all of that and opening my inbox on Saturday night, to glass number three of my good friend Pinot- I realized, boo. Devil- I was so. Goddamn. Angry.

I wasn’t angry at him- in fact, I was the exact opposite. I was still proud and loving and maternal as every towards him. Him and I are still healthy and fantastic, no regrets. I still want him to be wildly, happy. I was….. angry at myself.

Angry at myself for getting THAT FAR AWAY FROM MY CENTER.

Angry at myself for not listening to what my intuition had told me all along. Not just one thing that I’d ignored, but a series of things. I was angry that my brain had loved someone so intensely that I was willing to accept something that, even in my happiest moments, I knew would eventually leave me sucked dry that to the point of needing him to continue. I was angry that I’d let myself love someone so hard, that I may not be able to actually care about ANYONE like that, to that capacity, with that optimism and faith….ever again.

The remnants of that betrayal towards myself all sort of…rose to the surface this weekend.

I realized; you know what Chelsea Belle, right now- you're worth letting someone worry about you, take care of you, show adoration and excitement in YOU. Let them open doors, let them chase, let them see that you aren't here to be tamed, but you're willing to let them run alongside you-- if they can keep up.

Forgive yourself for staying longer than you should, for wishing it was going to be something that it wasn't, for seeing ALL THE SIGNS and doing it anyway. For turning a blind eye, for compromising too much, for giving it all away. Ease your instinct back out of it's cave, because you need it.

Listen to yourself. PAY. FUCKING. ATTENTION. Question their motives and as much as you want to give your heart freely, be cautious of who you give it to. Not to say that I have regrets, because I do not- but this next time around, I will be alert. Demanding of honesty. Of utmost respect and transparency.

The core of our spirits have this incredible system that senses red flags, warns you of danger, stops you in your tracks. Don’t be silly with that Center that’s trying to protect you- recklessness is only so much fun, then your heart gets in the way and it’s brutal.

Forgive yourself for knowing, for sensing danger and running head first anyway. Revisit the parts of you that you let DIE and bring them back to life, because you can.

Instinct. Your feminine nature that just knows. EMBRACE THESE THINGS. My wild women. Run with the wolves again.

What part of yourself are you not listening to???