Confessions on Beauty, Prejudice, and Self-Love.

I feel so stressed, and I don't have a great reason. I'm behind on writing, behind on work. I'm overwrought, and my head hurts. My neck is tight. And my face still hurts; damn acne--swollen lumps on my chin, jaw, and neck. I feel ugly these days. 

Both Bruce and my mom said I looked pretty in the photos from my reading, but those seem like consolation compliments, things you'd say to someone who normally isn't attractive. That's silly projecting, though. I can't expect anyone but Josh to tell me I'm pretty. 

I'm projecting my own pettiness and prejudice, my childhood insecurities that say that people with extra weight, with pimples, or with glasses can't be attractive. When I was very little, I thought people who were "fat" couldn't get married because no one would love them! How messed up is that?! Where did it come from? My couple of years in public school? Something in preschool? 

I'm ashamed to admit those thoughts. I'm sharing them only because I can't be the only one. I guess it's only fair that I am chubby, have glasses, and have acne. Really, those thoughts were warnings to myself: I can't be attractive. It doesn't mean anyone else has the same thoughts, except maybe (like me) about themselves. It doesn't even mean I think it about other people. I've been attracted to Josh regardless of acne or extra weight when he's had them, and I love his glasses. I know he is attracted to me; he demonstrates that, though not so much right now because I'm sick. I don't need anyone else to think I'm an attractive person. 

Do I need to think it about myself? As an adult, I haven't often been self-conscious or concerned with what others think when they look at me, but I've been embarrassed lately. I stopped wearing foundation a couple of years ago, but now, I'm wearing concealer again. I know the acne is hormonal, and the weight is probably hormones plus medication. I also don't like my hair right now at its awkward length. Recently, one of my front teeth broke. I got it fixed quickly, but that was another source of embarrassment even though almost no one saw it. 

Is it all punishment for some vanity of which I've been unaware? I've usually felt comfortable with my appearance as an adult. But now, I don't feel like I even recognize myself physically. I need to grow out my hair, lose the rest of this weight, and go to the dermatologist. OTC skincare isn't cutting it. 

I don't want to devalue myself because I don't feel pretty. I don't owe the world physical beauty. My writing is beautifully dark and strange...or beautifully luminous. My worth is inherent. But I am struggling. 

I've struggled with self-love for a few years before these bodily insecurities. I believed certain things about myself, as a person, a wife, and a writer. It turned out others had different perceptions, and this really threw me. I started to wonder if I knew myself at all, and I started to think there wasn't much to like. 

I've made some efforts to shore up my self-love, but I need to do that now more than ever. A couple of books have helped me: A Year of Self-Motivation for Women and A Year of Self-Love. I'm currently reading A Year of Self-Esteem straight through. The books have brief quotations, reflections, prompts, and affirmations. As I go through them, I write down my own affirmations right there in the book. 

The great aspect of affirmations is that you don't have to believe them to use them! You train your mind to believe them and therefore live and embody them. We do this all the time: shape our beliefs, perceptions, and behaviors. Well, often, we let others do it for us. I want to take more control. I want to focus on and enhance the good.

I am beautiful. I have enchanting eyes, strong legs, and striking coloring. I have a distinct style. I carry myself with assurance. I am poised and elegant. I am open to the beauty in myself and others. I am memorable.

I don't have to be flawless to be beautiful...or to be good.

Word of the Year 2025.

It's the new year! So much work is done...so much joy, work, and wonder to come! A whole set of seasons, holidays, and occasions. I'll even turn 40 this year! I'm excited. 

I'm wearing the blue fleece snowflake pajamas I bought to wear on Christmas Eve. Josh is next to me on the pink velvet loveseat in the study. He's looking at donations to the justice center as people gear up for coming changes and reach out to help. As the masses turn their backs, I hope to see individuals making eye contact with those who need it and with us.

I'm writing this early--6:30 a.m. We've been up for a while. We're used to rising early, especially lately, even though we've been away from school and work. I like the hush of morning, punctuated by Oliver's joyous exclamations and his leaps on the hardwood. Josh will go back to work tomorrow, but we'll still have the early mornings together.

I spent a lot of yesterday cleaning up and organizing. Our room is all fresh for the new year. I washed all our bedding too. My pink velvet snowflake comforter isn't going anywhere until spring. I've loved snowflakes since I was 12. I hung paper ones in the big window of my room then. Now, I have them hanging--blue, white, clear, and silver--in the open doorway between the study and the foyer. I once had a tiny room of my own in which they hung from the ceiling. But I am much happier now than I was then. Now, every room feels like mine, ours, not someone else's.

I didn't reflect much yesterday. I was busy doing laundry and clearing clutter. I made lists of the books I want to read on Kindle and Audible. I filled my turquoise cart with hardcopy books I want to read in 2025. I gathered trash to go out to our overfull bin (we missed trash day last week as we were out of town). I sorted and put away the earrings that had accumulated on the glass dish on the pink bookcase that holds my favorite books. I hung up clothes and cleaned out my nightstand drawer. I added pens to the pink case that holds all my pens for the new year--the first couple of months, anyway. I selected a Bordeaux Gelly Roll Moonlight for today. I made a massive to-do list on a large pad that says Today Is the Day in rainbow letters. Many of the entries are for joyful tasks, like writing this post and drinking a celebratory Shirley Temple. Right now, I'm drinking a Cherry Coke, a habit I plan to kick in 2025, but not just yet. 

This early morning, when the only light outside comes from the white fairy lights and glowing miniature birch tree on our porch, seems like a good time for reflection. I chose my word for 2025 just last week. I'm sure I thought of many possibilities throughout 2024, but I don't remember those. This one came to me immediately, and I hope it will still resonate this coming December. Now, at the end of a string of holidays and occasions, in the midst of winter's true beginning, it seems like a bright little token to grasp. It will be slippery some days, maybe many days. But it will always shimmer if I open my hand and look, not letting it fall.

My word is Celebrate. I want to celebrate life, love, and poetry. I want to do something celebratory every day. I want to approach everything with celebration. I want to spend money in a spirit of celebration, whether I'm buying a glittery lipstick or paying for utilities. It's all worth celebrating. 

I want to pay close attention to holidays and seasons, as I began to do last year. I want new accomplishments, but I also want to celebrate everything I do accomplish. I want to embue everything I do with dignity and magic, whether it's grading an essay, lighting a scented candle, putting on makeup, folding laundry, attending a poetry workshop, writing a post, or drinking coffee.

Today, I will attend an online workshop on daily writing practices with Shuly Cawood. I want to spend time outside in the crisp air. I also plan to go to Barnes for an artist's date. And of course, I want to spend quality time with the boys and read to them from a gorgeous book of winter tales. I want to celebrate every bit of this day.

What is your word of the year?

Last Day of 2024.

 This will be a brief post. It's after 6, and for me these days, that's like 9. I've been waking up early-early. I won't stay up until midnight tonight. I haven't stayed up that late in months, not even to read a fabulous book.

But I have read a lot since Christmas. My initial reading goal for 2024 was 100 books, but once I reached that, I changed it to 117 to best my best year (116 in 2022). Last night, I reached 120! My best year yet! I read over 50 books of poetry. About one-third of the books I read this year were audio.

My word of the year for 2024 was Progress. Various goals fed into that: reading more than I ever have, completing three teaching terms (a total of seven classes!), and getting three acceptances by the end of the year. I received an honorable mention for my first book of poems, and I got to read at the NC Poetry Society's fall meeting in Asheville. One poem was a contest finalist and will appear in my best publication yet in 2025. And I was accepted for a residency in 2025! I participated in many workshops, spent time with a local writers' group, wrote many poems, and began to shape two new collections of poetry. 

I hoped this year would be one of sobriety, love, and renewed trust. It has been that. I feel closer to Josh than I ever have, and I think he feels that way about me.  We've been with a new marriage counselor for almost the whole year. We celebrated 19 years together and our 20th Christmas. 

I dealt with daily panic attacks earlier in the year. But with medication adjustment and a lot of self-care, I have been free of mental and physical illness for mmonths. In fact, none of us got sick this fall.

This year came with its challenges and bitter surprises, more in the world than in my personal life. We will face the consequences next year and beyond. Still, I have hope. As long as individuals live in love, we cannot lose everything. We will still see light. I will see it.

Progress was a good word for this year, and I lived it. I hope I can live next year's word just as well. I am grateful for this year, which in so many ways has been gentle and encouraging. I have moved into good health, nourishing relationships, and creative renewal. May that continue, and may you reflect on your own progress this year.

If I Were Suddenly Rich.

 Here's what I'd do, not necessarily in this order:

1. Pay off credit card debt.
2. Pay off car.
3. Pay off Josh's student loans.
4. Pay off medical bills.
5. Buy second car outright.
6. Save a house down payment.
7. Buy the rest of the art I want, especially by Joy Laforme, Annie Stegg, Bella Pilar, and Amy Brown.
8. Buy pens, journals, and accessories from the Quirky Cup Collective (a very cool Australian stationery designer).
9. Set up trust for Oliver.
10. Made and send more comfort kits to the border.
11. Save more.
12. Buy Pottery Barn bookcases.
13. Buy new mattress for our room.
14. Buy a new couch: velvet in purple or green, probably.
15. Have a working fireplace.
16. Buy new dryer with no buzzer and give away our old one.
17. Buy Strand Bookstore swag.
18. Travel to indie bookstores in North Carolina and buy T-shirts.
19. Get a personalized bookplate stamp.
20. Get fancy therapy for Josh's PTSD.
21. Buy all the good Bath and Body Works candles and Wallflowers (on sale, of course).
22. Go on a massive BJ's shopping trip.
23. Plan a trip to New York.
24. Fly to Nashville to go to Parnassus Books and other indie bookstores in the area.
25. Take Josh to all the races.
26. Donate 1/10 to El Refugio, Red Cross, etc.
27. Set aside money for taxes.
28. Set up a savings account for Mom so she could work less.
29. Hire a respite care worker for Saturday mornings and one evening a week.
30. Buy CFRT season tickets.
31. Hire someone to clean twice a week.
32. Go to shows in Charlotte.
33. Buy a lot of the books and tools on my Writer's Wish List.
34. Go to Francesca Lia Block's in-person writing retreats/workshops.
35. Take all the creative writing classes that interest me.
36. Buy most of my books at indie bookstores.
37. Buy sparkly holiday season clothes at Loft.
38. Buy wide-calf, tall, gray boots.
39. Knock out my Atlas Stationer's wish list (mostly inks).
40. Buy a Sailor Slim Zoom nib fountain pen.
41. Get Chinese food once a week.
42. Get Panera once a week.
43. Have lunch and coffee alone at Barnes once a week.
44. Buy Josh all the books on his TBR list.
45. Buy all my favorite books in hardcover.
46. Buy fresh flowers weekly.
47. Go to Carrabbas with Josh once a month.
48. Take Bruce out to eat.
49. Buy an extra DPAC season ticket for Corey.
50. Pay someone to do occupational therapy at our house.
51. Self-publish beautiful books.
52. Go on two writing retreats (in person!) a year.
53. Open an independent book/coffee/stationery/yarn shop with the guys.
54. Direct a play just for fun and pay everyone.
55. Have a shallow pool for Oliver.
56. Have a small but deep pool for my treading.
57. Take Josh to sports ball games.
58. Buy a Madame Alexander Scarlett Cissy doll.
59. Be a patron for one of my favorite artists (kind of doing this with Amy Brown's Patreon!).
60. Buy a powerful laptop with no lagging.
61. Visit all the bookstores writers mention in My Bookstore.
62. Sponsor a library.
63. Buy a quilt or comforter to switch our each month.
64. Have a walk-in linen closet.
65. Really decorate inside and out for Christmas.
66. Buy Broadway show swag.
67. Buy a better printer.
68. Get a better system to deal with Oliver's bed wetting.
69. Buy a pull-out loveseat for the study (velvet in a fun color).
70. Buy Bruce all the yarn he could ever use.
71. Double date with Bruce and Corey.
72. Buy a lifetime supply of Fresh Sugar Advanced Therapy lip balm.
73. Get my MA in children's lit.
74. Get my Ph.D in English.
75. Have a walk-in makeup closet.
76. Have a dressing room.
77. Buy a Pottery Barn Teen vanity.
78. Have a skating rink.
79. Buy a selection of wild rollerskates.
80. Buy personalized journals from Papier.
81. Buy several inks from the 2023 Diamine Inkvent calendar.
82. Have a walk-in pantry.
83. Buy a heated blanket for every room.
84. Buy Josh the finest vegan cheese and vegetarian meals.
85. Have a small closet just for candles and Wallflowers.
86. Have a soaking tub.
87. Have a walk-in closet just for journals and pens.
88. Build a perfect house with all of this.
89. Buy Shutterfly plaques of my special photos--no more glass.
90. Buy massive art books.
91. Take art history classes.
92. Support Josh in getting his MA in history or his Ph.D in English.
93. Go to New York City once a year.
94. Go to the UK with Josh and see shows in London.
95. Buy all the Bestsey Johnson jewelry I like and put it on display.
96. Have a small birthday party for Oliver each year.
97. Buy a new white dresser for our room.
98. Buy a second white dresser for Josh.
99. Enter all the writing contests.
100. Go to writing residencies.

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Self-Care for Difficult Months.

 March is a tough month for me. I didn't even recognize it this year until I had five panic attacks in three weeks. Bewildered, I finally remembered that March is full of difficult anniversaries for me. My mind hadn't remembered, but my body certainly had. Now, I'm through March, but May is another painful month. So, I started thinking, how can I prepare for and get through a difficult month?

• Stay aware. I don't need to dread March or May, but I should be conscious of them in case my body or moods have strange reactions.
• Light candles downstairs.
• Light a candle in our bedroom.
• Eat fruit.
• Eat vegetables.
• Capture morning sunshine, opening the shutters in my bedroom or sitting out on the front porch.
• Go for walks. Notice flowers.
• Do yoga with a soothing audio book (right now, I'm listening to Madeleine L'Engle's The Irrational Season).
• Ask for wing rubs. I've been storing a lot of stress in my upper back between each shoulder blade and my spine. That is where I figure my wings would sprout.
• Listen to a soothing book and do nothing. Don't worry about drifting off...I can always hit the 30-second rewind until I get to a passage I recognize.
• Go to bed early. It's okay to put a day, with all its frustrations and inadequate accomplishments, to rest.
• Shower early in the day. I'm terrible about waiting until afternoon or night; it's better to feel fresh longer.
• Look at art with Josh.
• Sit with Josh on the couch or love seat instead of alone in my armchair.
• Take a nap, bundled up or spread out.
• Take pain medication for persistent tension.
• Watch a favorite movie. I did this around Christmas (Little Women--the version doesn't matter), and it felt wonderful.
• Read Alexandra Stoddard, my favorite interior-designer-cum-philosopher.
• Allow myself to do nothing (not even listen to a book).
• Redirect sad or fearful thoughts. I'm working on that one.
• Give myself time to rest and heal, communicating with someone I trust or with a therapist.
• Tell Josh how I feel. It's not so hard. "I'm feeling...."
• Cut pretty images out of magazines.
• Get lost in a novel. I'm almost afraid to do this in the same way I used to be afraid of listening to Broadway showtunes--fearful of feeling too much or becoming too engaged. But why shouldn't I feel and engage?
• Look at my library. It's pretty great, full of potential, and some of it is in rainbow order.
• Take deep breaths. This sounds obvious, but it real does help me.
• Drink extra water.
• Take bubble baths and read, preferably an "easy" book.
• Pray.
• Have a conversation with a close friend, whether or not we discuss what's bothering me directly.
• Work on notes for what I can discuss in therapy.
• Put stickers in a journal, admiring my collections.
• Flip through magazines, just to see the pictures. I can read everything later.
• Wear bathrobes for simplicity and warmth.
• Work under my heated throw. Heat calms me.
• Show Josh my tickle itches (I'm addicted to soft, tickling touches, and I often want them in a specific place, like a spot on my back that I can't reach).
• Put on perfume. I so often forget this.
• Respond to writing prompts. Bella Grace Field Guide to Everyday Magic is a great source.
• Make lists. It comforts me (clearly).
• Read an inspriational gift book--just color and quotations or affirmations. Compendium makes the best ones.
• Work for at least thirty minutes. That way, I feel like I've done something even if I can't tackle all my tasks at once.
• Loosen jaw. I'm a terrible clencher.
• Eat a turkey, gouda, tomato, and pesto sandwich.
• Talk about what I'm reading (or about what I'm reading with Josh or Bruce).
• Transfer wish lists from my journal (usually the back page) to Amazon or GoodReads.
• Eat comfort carbs.
• Drink less caffeine.
• Concentrate on how many months or years have passed since the trauma.
• Boil eggs for breakfast, easy and filling.
• Concentrate on loving thoughts.
• Identify planks in the bridges of relationships I'm trying to repair.
• Sleep on fresh sheets.
• Learn an interesting new word, maybe in another language.
• Go to Barnes.
• Plan budgets for peace of mind.
• Look at blank journals (in boxes under my bed, in the linen closet, in the wardrobe...). I have so many beautiful ones just waiting.
• Read Somerset magazines (Bella Grace, In Her Studio, Art Journaling).
• Read Enchanted Living, especially the new book-lovers issue.
• Adjust air/heat, blankets, and clothes until I feel perfectly comfortable with the termperature.
• Wash dishes with warm water.
• Eat rock candy (a good distraction).
• Trim nails so snags or rough edges don't annoy me.
• Be naked whenever possible (those sweet hours between when Oliver goes to sleep and when he wakes up in the middle of the night).
• Take two Xanax and insist on going to sleep when panicked.
• Ask for deep kisses.
• Don't exhaust myself in the mornings. It's okay to take it slow.
• Don't focus too much on the chart (my list of goals I'd ideally reach every day). Track but don't count.
• Share something with Josh: an idea, an artwork, a song, a memory.
• Read poetry: really get into it.
• Read poems aloud to Josh, even if he falls asleep. Taste the words.
• Do one little task. Put away one object.
• Focus on making a single healthy or happy choice.
• Type my poems, which are languishing in my journals).
• Sit in the sun or turn on my SAD lamp.
• Wear my beloved star coatigan.
• Don't let a headache go on.  Take something.
• Ask for specific rubs. I'm sometimes tense in my lower back, in my wings, or in my neck.
• Listen to my body. Hunger, thirst, anxiety, fatigue...
• Turn of fans if the noise or cold bothers me.
• Focus on what IS real or genuine.
• Turn on more lights.
• Stretch ankles.
• Sleep in.
• Eat soup.
• Work in bed.
• Keep glasses on and up to avoid headaches.
• Listen to the wood-wick candle.
• Play a fireplace video, if only for the crackling.
• Ask for deep kisses.
• Choose to believe.
• Listen to a book or have a conversation during a shower (often a difficult task for me).
• Drink juice.
• Read love letters.
• Look at wild violets.
• Stand still in a hot shower.
• Write love notes.
• Look at photos of flowers (I have a few books, such as New York in Bloom). 
• Look at monochromatic or rainbow art. Grouped colors soothe me.
• Notice all the pink in a room.
• Drink from a wine glass.
• Request all-over tickles.
• Speak my truth.
• Give myself credit for the good I've done.
• Focus on good anniversaries and celebrations.
• Read my quotation books.
• Have and show self-compassion.
• Read something comforting, like one of those little novels about a bookshop.
• Make tea just to breathe in its steam.

Defining Elegance.

•  Graceful middle age
• Loving acceptance
• Forgiveness without resentment
• Pearls, especially gray ones
• Absorbing art
• Pegacorns
• A stack of journals with striking spines
• Painting
• Argyle sweaters and socks
• Sparkling water
• Sparkling juice
• Lilac candles
• Mermaids wearing gowns
• Warm Vanilla Sugar hand soap on a pedestal sink
• Peacoats
• Antiques
• Design books
• Scarlett O'Hara
• Architecture
• Opera glasses
• Capes
• Somerset magazines
• Jane Austen novels
• Chandeliers
• The Majestic Theatre
• Seahorses
• Reclining heated seats at movie theaters
• Emma Thompson
• Judy Dench
• Leslie Caron
• Fountain pens
• Couches with large scroll arms
• Sparkling hair
• Black gel ink
• The film The Fountain
• Slipper chairs
• Anne Shirley grown up
• Anything embroidered
• Light blue sequins
• Fairy queens and elfin queens
• A silver butterfly letter holder
• Mucha art/art nouveau
• Art Deco (though in a different way)
• New York City's skyline
• Heels that sparkle
• Dolls with trunk sets
• Glinda
• Pan au chocolat
• A cloche hat
• Wisteria
• High tea
• Chocolate eyeliner
• Star gazing
• All shades of green
• A consistent sleep schedule
• Alexandra Stoddard
• Drinking water
• Julia Cameron
• Madeleine L'Engle
• Upholstered bar chairs
• A well-read person
• White wood
• Cinderella
• A library
• Working at a white table
• Gray curtains with pink stars
• Anniversary cards
• Script
• "The Twelve Dancing Princesses"
• White roses
• Pink roses with baby's breath
• Any of ALW's music
• The book Wintering
• Dodie Smith
• A chilly breeze on the first day of spring
• Willow trees