Welp, it happened. I actually did it. I'm not in NYC anymore. I technically live in a soon-to-be-named rental car/whomever's home I'm staying. All that mental chatter from which I've been distracting myself is flowing with reckless abandon. I hate/love it. I have so much to tell you. If you want to keep up with it all, subscribe to my tour blog or my mailing list or both.
Short answer: I’m crazy and I’ve completely lost it.
Longer answer: In early December 2015, I had one of those days where everything goes from bad to worse. I’ll spare you the details to protect the innocent, but this day came on the tail end of months of anger, resentment, loneliness, depression and anxiety. Something in me broke that day and it hurt. Real bad.
If your best friend approached you and said, “I’m going to start a daily journaling practice,” would you respond with, “Oh, jeez. Are you sure? Do you really have that kind of time?”
If your answer is, “Yes, that is absolutely what I would say,” then I think you are not very nice and you need a time out.
“Go to yoga. Please. Stop packing and making lists and just get out of the house and go to yoga. Promise me.”
That was the nicest (and possibly the most important) thing my last ex told me.
…while I was moving out of his house.
…leaving behind everything I’d tried to build for two years while also considering the basic point of existence.