In Jen Pastiloff's retreats and workshops, she has a prompt that asks: What are you saying "yes" to? In our lives, we say no to so much. Fear, anxiety, and depression keep us from saying yes even when we want to, and I am no stranger to saying no because yes is far too scary sometimes. Since the last time I wrote, my world has been turned upside-down. Those that know why, thank you for being there. Those that don't yet know, you will, in time. If that seems too vague and like something an asshole would say, that could be accurate. But there are times where we deal with things that are so painful that the only way to start talking about them is with ambiguous sweeping statements like the ones I just typed above. But this isn't a post to write nebulous statements that make little …
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Rewrite the Narrative
"Rewrite the narrative," a friend reminded me this morning, after I spent 20 minutes on the phone with her recounting my somewhat self-inflicted shitty day prior. I had gone down a old email rabbit hole, and spent my lunch break reading emails from 8 or 9 years prior, when I was having a particularly rough period in my life. Yeah, I know. Dummy. When she told me this, my thoughts immediately went to a place of, "But! But! The injustice! The heartache! This happened! These things happened to me!" And they did. And they were terrible. And for some inexplicable reason, I am, dare I say, addicted to reliving these feelings. I am addicted to reliving terrible things that have happened to me. There. I said it. But WHY? I know I'm not the only one, and I'm not even the first …
I will be weightless in my joy.
When I booked Jen Pastiloff's Manifestation retreat for myself, I wasn't entirely sure what to prepare myself for. I'd been to Jen's one-day workshop, and had my heart cracked open in just a few short hours. I knew that I wanted an excuse/reason to visit Italy again and this was a good one. It's taken me a few days (alright--almost a week) to let myself ruminate in all the sights, sounds, and smells (oh the delicious smells) from last week. I swam in the Mediterranean sea. I made pizza and pasta from scratch (and then ate it, along with Italian meats, cheeses and bread, by the forkful). I sang, danced, cried and laughed. I had an affair with Florence and Siena and relished in the beauty of the people and places within them. This trip allowed me to realize the immense …