Dipped In It

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About Me

Over thinker.

Lover of words.

Mother of Magical Beings.

Grieving daughter.

LGBTQ ally.

Terrified and unrelenting optimist.

Proponent of the F word, in all forms. (It is a many splendored thing.)

Owner of a bursting, bleeding heart.

Entrepreneur.

Noticer.

Grateful belly laugher.

Metaphor junkie.

Professional and indiscriminate weeper.

Wounded bird and Fiery Phoenix.

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Dipped In It

Dipped In It

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Sometimes I just need to retreat into my nest, and let myself feel the weight of sadness. It feels indulgent...to fully welcome the shadow side of me. Not only letting it in but allowing it to soak me through. The shadows must to be honored too. “The shadow proves the light.” #dippedinit #honortheshadow #nest #grief #loss #sadness #feelthefeelings

Dear Dad, Today I drove past the place where you died. I didn’t mean to do it. Following navigation to a place I’d never been, I didn’t realize until I was there, in front of the hospital. In that instant of recognition, I felt trapped. As the tears welled in my eyes I tried to push them down. It’s just a sunny Sunday morning. No one has to die today. I know you aren’t there anymore—if you ever were at all. Mom said you were already gone when they took you away in the ambulance. Still, I spent nine nights sleeping beside you in the reclining chair. Always hoping that in the morning when I opened my eyes, so would you. When your eyes did flicker open, I thought my own heart would burst from happiness. Until I saw the vacancy of your stare. In that moment I felt myself break into a million pieces. Parts of me scattered all over the floor of your room. Perhaps some are still there...under the recliner. #dad #loss #grief #dippedinit #grievingdaughter #threeyears #stillfreshsometimes

I am a terrible house painter. I am distractible and messy, impatient and seemingly unable to follow a logical progression from one side of the room to another. I’m all over the place. I was painting my daughter’s bedroom yesterday and had help from both girls at the start of the project (until they lost interest which may or my not be related to the rest of this story). I found myself giving an annoying amount of reminders and corrections...be careful not to drip, watch the floor, don’t put too much paint on the roller or it will splatter...meanwhile I am dripping literally EVERYWHERE. I even managed to pour a significant amount of paint (like...a LOT) all over my own hand and sleeve trying some kind of twist/wine pour maneuver with a gallon of paint. I mean...any bystander watching ME giving painting tips would have howled with laughter or at the very least had a massively raised eyebrow. I thought to myself...I am terrible at this, so why do I feel the need to be so critical and uptight about how THEY are doing it? Which got me thinking—I wonder how often it happens that we are most critical of others in areas in which we ourselves feel deficient? What is that? I know I’m doing it wrong so I have to point out that YOU are doing it wrong too? But I’m not going to admit I’m doing it wrong. You see here by telling you how to do it, I’m showing you that I actually KNOW HOW TO DO IT. I am just CHOOSING not to do it that right way. By choice. Ah, humans are funny. #dippedinit #painting #messy #youredoingitwrong #fullyhuman

A MOTHER A mother, sitting on the couch, her warm hands clutch the book she’s reading. She pauses. As she thinks, her eyes hide emotion like a curtain hides a lit window in the dead of night. Her hair pinned up like a noble princess. Always standing tall even when sadness overwhelms her. Always helping people even when others don’t. Always remembering what she sees so she may tell it another day. Her mind filled with knowledge collected over the years. Her body strong, she has learned how to take things as they come and never give up. Her eyes observe all, see all, know all. She resumes reading. (written by my daughter, Beau, age 13, and shared with permission ❤️) ~~~~~ 1) May I forever strive to be the person she sees when she looks at me. 2) I think she may publish before I do. #dippedinit #mother #daughter #love

I feel I have gotten to this place of finding a home within myself. But...not to where I am completely confident I will not lose myself again within a relationship. I know this is a place of fear and resistance for me. I have always poured myself out at the feet of the one I love. Can I share from my replenished well, without having the experience of once again becoming hollow—of watching as all that I am is slowly absorbed into the floor at his feet? Do those who love wholeheartedly ever really learn to share themselves without pouring themselves out completely? #dippedinit #yungpueblo #yungpuebloagain #sowise #buildahomewithin #relationships #divorce #secondchance #bebrave

#brianandreas #storypeople #beautiful

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