Showing posts from August, 2020

Be a Better Person; Stop Giving a Shit

We’d been sweaty and pissy to each other all day, so it was time for a swim. We arrived at a nearby lake, my kids bickered about which frog net they would carry, and grumbled about which snacks I did or did not bring, they even argued about whose bag was heavier. But I ignored them and walked ahead. Somehow, they survived and arrived at the water’s edge with me, not dead on the trail from the terrible disease ‘heavy bag-itus’, as was threatened.   I stood in the water, texting a friend, answering her thoughtful query about how my day was going. At the moment, little else felt as important to me as having a simple catch up with my friend.   Not too long ago, I would have felt self-conscious if I was blatantly ignoring my children in public in favor of my phone. Even though I am a rock-solid awesome mom, the public performance of motherhood often prevented me from doing things that nourished me.     Women must not only be sexually appealing and visually pleasing at all times, but they mu

The Fallacy of Self-Care Being Accessible to All

  You may feel like you’re barely getting by every day, with all the stressors that come with being a functional adult. You may feel like you can barely make it to the next month, even though you’re working as hard and fast as you can. You may feel like you’re a little fish trying to swim upstream, while the bigger fish cruise right by you with ease. Well, now with the self-care movement, you can feel like you’re failing at yet another thing.   Supposedly, wellness and self-care should be open to everyone, but keep in mind that unless you’re eating charcoal a cai avocado toast, healing with crystals, and wearing only the finest organic cotton, then you’re doing it all wrong.     I’m sorry to share that you’re just going to have to work harder at properly taking care of yourself, and if you can’t get to that island retreat with silent purebred puppy shamans and fermented gold leaf massages with bone broth facial infusion treatments, then, well, you only have yourself to blame. Sad. Tha

Sometimes, a Fake Mustache Can Help

  When I was a teenager, my family moved to a new city and I transferred to a large high school. Although I was very shy, I was enticed by the options for clubs and extracurriculars, and joined the stage make-up group. I had been curious about using colors and techniques on the face and body to enhance and amplify storytelling, so joining felt like a perfect fit. Little did I know that I’d utilize what I learned to celebrate my family’s safety during a global pandemic.   The first few meetings went well, I met nice kids, and after learning some basics, I was eager to start trying out some techniques. Every time we broke up into small groups to practice, the teacher who led the group pulled me aside as his partner. I couldn’t quite identify my discomfort about how often or how excessively he touched me, or that he wouldn’t  le t me wo rk with the other kids. I was the shy new kid without any friends, and couldn’t name what was happening to me, and even though I loved learning about stag

Repair The World: Start At The Roots

          My littlest child loves the trees, and invites me to quietly walk in the forest nearly every day, now that we have time for such things in our new normal. We’ve explored many of the luscious green trails all over western MA. We almost always feel safe to explore, always grateful to live in a place of such abundant natural beauty.   Recently, we learned about an invasive plant called knotweed and my child was transformed from mellow hiker to tireless activist. Knotweed can grow incredibly fast, is extremely destructive to trails and forests by exacerbating flooding, and releases chemicals that hinders the growth of native plants.   “We have an opportunity to heal the world, and now that we know about this, it’s our duty,” he shouted emphatically as he yanked the plants up, exposing intricately tangled networks of dirt-clotted roots.   The bags I pack for our daily hikes now include not only water and snacks, but work gloves and metal trowels. I was slower than my child to a