1. I’ve spent a lot of my life giving all my best away. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this except when I manage to leave myself with nothing, just scraps, crumbs, remnants. I was led to believe that everyone did the same and that resulted in a system of “give your best/receive the best from others.” I saw it as transactional in that way, karmic even, that you would get what you give (even to the point of it multiplying when it comes back to you, “tenfold”), or as the bible put it, “Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.”

2. I had it wrong and got lost, turned around. For all kinds of reasons, you can’t count on reciprocity. Sometimes it happens but often what you are offered (if anything) isn’t exactly enough or exactly right, isn’t what you need, falls short. And even in relationships where it happens on occasion (you getting what you need) there are still seasons where the balance is off. Even in healthy, sane relationships there are times where one just doesn’t have the capacity and the other needs to pick up the slack — which makes me think of that great poem “A Marriage” by Michael Blumenthal. And of course there are those whose own suffering means they take but won’t give back in equal measure (if at all), won’t show up, won’t stick around.

3. I’m practicing being myself and giving my best. I can show up for those I love, for those with a need I’m able to meet, AND I can take the very best care of myself — which sometimes means a clear boundary with someone who disregards who you are and what you need. I can come home to myself, call my energy back. I can stay close to those who are here for me, and for those who aren’t I can love them from afar, wish them well and release them.

One wish: May you be surrounded by people who show up and are present even in the boredom and discomfort and not knowing, and may those relationships be mutually beneficial. For those who aren’t able to go there with you, to stay, may they find what they need elsewhere. May your tender heart recognize those who are steady and ready and respond accordingly, loving those who can love you and letting go with love of those who can’t. 

1. Truth: I’m still working on “The Book.” One complication is that as I write, I am aware there are at least four books, waiting and wanting to be written, (working titles: Sublimity, The Lost Years, Walking Meditation, and Stay). This makes the process a bit confusing, as I sit down to write what I think is for one book but the deeper I go it becomes clear it belongs to another, or worse yet has a place in multiple stories but must be approached with a different viewpoint each time. It can leave me feeling that I have NO IDEA what I’m doing, (um, because I don’t). I just keep showing up, making the effort, hoping it will work out. As I’m writing, I’m also finally reading the books on the craft of memoir that I’ve collected over the years, hoping that study can help support what I’m doing.

2. Truth: I miss writing to you more directly, kind and gentle reader. Even though everything I’m writing is intended to eventually be FOR YOU, not sharing it directly and immediately is so hard. I want to tell you everything, make sense of it in real time and in community, tell you as I go in case it might help you where you are, right now. And yet, there’s something about creating an offering that is larger, more expansive and in depth, something you can hold in your hands and will last beyond me.

3. Truth: This takes so much time and effort, is so complex. I’m not just writing a book(s) about my experience(s), I’m living it, and some of my story is happening in real time, in the real and very chaotic world. My WHOLE life, I’ve tried to prove my worth, to EARN the right to be here, only to discover in my 50s that much of what I was taught to value and do to get that love, safety, and belonging is fundamentally unworkable and untrue. It’s a lot to process, so much to unpack and unlearn. In moments of despair it makes it seem like I’ve wasted my life and I don’t have enough time left to turn things around. In other more gentle, kind moments I can see that I had to live this in order to make sense of it and share it in a way that might help make someone else’s time a little bit easier. 

One wish: May we allow ourselves the time that it takes, rest when we need to rest, ask for help when we need it, trust ourselves and continue to show up, even when it’s hard.