One freaking hour of peace each day.

The question is not Am I good enough? The question is Am I in 100%?

It occurred to me (yet again) today that I have these stupid stories that act as minefields or quicksand in my brain and if I misstep, there I go, into Fucked Land where I’m invisible, stupid, worthless, and ready to eat a pan or warm brownies with a shovel.

Imagine loving EVERYTHING in the universe and beyond! Imagine saying YES to your life, to all life.

What if each adopted person wrote the children’s book they wished they’d had when they were small? What if we flooded the market with books for adoptive parents to choose from? What if adopted kids could go into bookstores that had hundreds of books to choose from that talked about what it was like to be adopted?

I listen and I listen and I listen and what I hear over and over again, in my head and out in the world is I’m not interested in having all my dreams come true. In fact, I don’t even want to talk about them because the truth is I forgot what they were a long time ago. I want to tell you what is bothering me. I want to tell you all the things that are wrong.

Ask yourself, What’s the story I want to tell?

It’s so weird that relaxing is one of the hardest things to do!

In massage school, we used to play with energy.

There are reasons not to fake excitement.

When you know that your parents paid for you, when there is a receipt for both the lawyer and the adoption agency in your family file, when you have seen your own price tag, it’s easy to end up with weird feelings about money.

Even rockets sit on the launch pad for long, long periods before they are shot off into space.