First things first, stop sleeping with liars.
Stop crawling into bed at night, pulling the covers over your body, and letting liars hiss inside your ear: you’re unworthy. You’re not good enough. You’re falling short. You’re a burden. You’re alone.
These liars take up room. They snicker and grow when you give them credit. They hold tight to your ankles. They make you feel like less: less of a lover. Less of a mover. Less of a shaker. Less of a person. Please– for the love of lovelier things– do not fling away your life and feed it to the liars in your head that tell you you don’t add up.
You need to stop holding yourself back. The pity party must cease and you must de-invite the little liars to your darkest parts. You need to stop thinking you have never deserved good things for your life.
View original post 1,753 more words
The first time I saw the Berlin Wall was the summer between my sophomore and junior year in high school. We had just moved to West Berlin because my Dad, who had been laid off from Pan American World Airways for 14 years, had unexpectedly been recalled…and sent to Berlin.
I remember when we got the news that we’d be moving. We’d known the assignment was to come through that day, so I’d made Mom promise to leave a message for me at school telling me where we’d be moving to. To my surprise, in the middle of algebra class, my teacher handed me a note. It read simply, “Berlin”.
Suddenly the world opened up for me. Visions of bratwurst, dirndls and Cold War spy movies filled my mind.
Clearly, I had no idea what I was getting in to.
By the time we’d moved into our apartment in the…
View original post 1,546 more words
Oh so sweet!
Today we signed the papers to sell our beautiful old house; the one we bought with you in mind and the one we brought you home to. We’ll be moving soon and I wonder what you and your sister will remember from our time here. In our last weeks here, I want to tell you some stories so that you can look back on them someday.
The trees in front of this house are big and beautiful and every year in October, the leaves carpet the lawn and porch. Today as we shuffled through the piles that you proudly raked yourself, I was remembering the first time we raked these leaves together. You were eight weeks old and I had you wrapped up onto my body on the sunniest of fall days. Your dad was going to be working late so I decided to surprise him by getting…
View original post 696 more words