hold fast


It’s hard to be inspired right now.

A friend of mine said it best: “I’m not a fan of anyone who it too pessimistic right now. Then again I’m not a fan of anyone who is too optimistic, either.”

Most of the conversations I have with the people I love weigh heavy on me. Some of them, I hear tears being swallowed down as they (like all of us) march through the fog of uncertainty.

A few of my people are really hurting right now. They are quite literally falling around their own heart of darkness and when you love people, you can’t help but to fall with them.

It is too easy to be hard on yourself right now. That dense fog that looms over the next few months is so heavy and I feel it in my lungs, just like you. I fall asleep reading the same gut-wrenching stories and wake up with the hope that my morning coffee feels perfectly hot against the back of my throat.


I spent an evening this past week visiting my sister recovering from surgery. My dad was in town helping so I decided to make some pizza with my niece and nephews, while also catching up with my parents and hoping to get a few laughs in the process.

I’ll start out by saying I’m not great with kids, especially the smaller they are. I just don’t use that part of my brain very much. (Though being silly is so needed right now)

I don’t consider myself a good uncle, but I’ve always felt that as my sister’s kids get older, I’ll be better at it.
As I was getting things ready to make pizza, my niece Anna came and sat at the bar. I know so much about her but rarely do I get to see her face and hold a conversation for more than a few minutes because generally adults are boring and I don’t blame her for wanting to do other things.

But I asked her about cross-country and school and show choir. All things she’s really good at. I listened to her sound so bummed out that she wouldn’t physically be going back to school for another month at least and it equally bummed me out.

I looked at her and saw someone who is so much older than I had realized.

She is a person that is beginning to understand the weight of things and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Not only is she entering the weirdest time of becoming an older human being, but in the middle of a pandemic — not being able to be with her friends as much as she wants and the uncertainty she also faces in her own future.

I felt some of my own anxiety die down a bit.

I’ve always seen this pandemic as a “row your own boat” sort of thing. The sea is whatever tumultuous thing we are facing. Between a depression, pandemic and civil rights movement, we are all clinging white knuckled to the sides of our vessels screaming:


I was thankful to hug my mom. My sister. My dad. Very rarely do we get those opportunities, as I am just as nervous as you to travel around and possibly expose either my anxiety or germs to other people that do not deserve them. But it’s good to air out your grievances. And it’s good to be respectful of others’, as well.

If you see another boat taking on more water than your own, help them. (But don’t sink yourself in the process.)

To my niece, I would tell her this:

It won’t always be this hard. Things will lighten. You will come out of the fog on the other side, thankful and cautious and ferociously hungry to experience more.
The things you’re learning about yourself now will stay with you forever. This year will be the year where everything changed — and it will be a pillar built on your foundation.
You will still have to move around those large rocks sticking out of the fog — some, you won’t see til’ it’s too late, but there are others that will help you — and I will help you when I can.

Hold fast, love.

The light will inevitably cut through,

and I will meet you there.


you are made of this.


I haven’t felt this full in a while.


Like a rain soaked coat it weighs on my shoulders, and I remember other lives, most of them mine. How do you say you’ve been the same person your entire life? I know I cannot and I will not be this same person next year.

I got to spend some time with a few folks from a past life here — I don’t know. Things are always moving, so to say a past life means it’s something I’m done with when clearly I’m not. Either way, my thoughts go deep into the rhythm of who I used to be, and I’m constantly making amends to the person I am now.

The person I am now.
More gray hairs then I’d like to comment on. Tired looking face, every so often. My brain has been messing with me lately — a mixture of anxiety and nervous anticipation — something I can’t say I’ve dealt with very well in the past. It felt unbalanced. Shook. Highly aware.

I speak on these things because it helps. My dreams as of late have been vivid. Some awful. Some digging up things I haven’t thought about in years. Whatever has been going on in my head broke down a wall and I’ve been flooded out — up to my neck in all the scary things.

I want to talk on the pressure of things, but I don’t know that I’ve ever felt them this strong until my body couldn’t take it anymore. I would notice my foot and leg nervously rocking while I was laying still — and I would wake up at 3am thinking I’d forgot something and couldn’t fall back asleep.

I went to the doctor. Luckily, he said, I wasn’t dying. (Not yet, at least.)
But the things I used to cope with stress, I’ve quit and no longer take part in.

So, I’m learning how to cope without the things I’ve always had. As it turns out, it is extremely difficult to move forward without them. They almost feel like friends. Things that I could reach to in the midst of a crisis — not knowing the places they were settling in my mind.

I feel so much better, as of today. Though the people who have spent time with me the past month or so know, I’ve been heavy with worry and stress. Mostly on myself and with the changes I’ve been taking. I’ve been coming to conclusions I would’ve hated in myself a few years ago. I cannot have it all. I cannot control it all. I cannot let it control me.


I am constantly reminded of this life, and how tiny it is in the midst of millions of years of this world groaning with melted rock and steam, war and peace, time and pressure.

I’m not a person who will ever say a person is not special, or unique (or as we’ve been tagged as a snowflake generation) — I don’t know. I do value what I see in others and their potential. I see our ability to grow with each other and settle conflicts — and fall in love and love each other so, so well.

I know things are also really f***ing hard. People cheat on us. And lie. Let us down and break us into a million tiny pieces.

We also stand up again.

We breathe deeply and soundly.

We move forward, inevitably.
You are not going to lose the pains of your life and former lives. I am sorry if this hurts, but we don’t forget what moves us deeply — and we don’t forget the ones we’ve kissed — the ones who we have seen their shape in a mirror or standing in the light of something larger than this world.

We make them our own.
We hold them on our shelves with the other things in our lives. The books and songs that have moved you and the ones who gave us our noses and our toes.

You are made of this — billions of atoms comprised of the stuff that make stars explode and expand and form into new beautiful things.

It takes time – you know this.

but you are worth the time it takes to grow deeply into your place among the things that breathe here, and your light is strong.

keep moving.


you will.


I think I often straddle the line of what I see as heartbreaking and what is beautiful.

Maybe I can dip my toes into both lakes because I know they always meet somewhere down the line. We are always in that meeting place. Of heaviness and both light that swirls infinitely between all of us.

We are the beautiful and heartbroken things. I see it more so, all of the time. The truth is I’ve been raw to it my whole life. Inflamed and swollen and exposed like a nerve. It’s taken me a lot of time to wrap myself in them good things. I keep them tight against my chest so I can feel them when I breathe; up and down.

Being single, officially, longer than I was in a relationship weighs heavy. Why I often weigh things in time is something I’ve developed over the years. All in all, I am so thankful for what I’ve learned in the chaos and in the calm.

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I think I wanted to write this to one person. It might actually be more than one. But they say to write to one person. So here it goes.

I have this card on my fridge from a friend that says ‘Your heart is the size of an ocean” — which seems like something that you’d get stitched on a pillow from the Hallmark store, but actually is a quote from Rumi. He’s probably one of your favorites, too.

But it is. And it is what I often want to grab you by the face and scream so that it finds its way into your heart so you know and so that you’ll know forever. The world is not always angry and misunderstanding. And that so much is birthed from pain. The world was created by melting rocks and hell and only became something beautiful because of time and pressure.

It’s geology. That’s really how we tell things are ground down with different pressures like winds and rains and the inevitable meeting of two souls who have moved and changed.

Your life is in fact valuable and grows more valuable by the day!

Your wounds won’t heal all the way. Most don’t. But don’t let it stop you from moving forward and living your days with intention and love and the power that rumbles in your belly.

It is the hardest thing you will do.

But like the earth you will moan and heat and cool. You will expand and host a world of thoughts and adventure:

5Ks and stiff drinks. Cheese fries and kids falling asleep sweaty on your lap.

You will wake up and breathe again.

And the knot in your stomach will dissolve.

I know it will.

And I know you will.

You will wake up and breathe again.


Word of the Day


Today I want to talk about words.

I suppose one word in particular.

At the beginning of everything, the word “divorce” was terrifying. In my mind, I saw scenes of a courtroom. Both sides are furiously throwing around passive aggressive statements. There’s the scene of the dad (or mom) with all of their things taking off down the road, while the kids are left waving goodbye. And this is a story more often true, than not.

Divorce conjures up a lot of imagery. A lot of it is painful from my past, and my present.

I guess to say it out loud takes a lot of work. People generally start out with “separation” and “splitting” and eventually get into that nasty word.


A huge separation of life and spirit.

It sounds a bit violent to me. Unfortunately, it is the word we have deemed necessary with the action.

I’m sure it derives from something in Latin. I’m sure I could just google it, but I’m not.

I’m writing all of this because I wish I could’ve read something like it when I was going through everything. Well, I still am, actually.


Those of you who read this blog often know that I started writing about my pain almost instantly. There wasn’t any way around the fact that I was going through a very hard time. At one point, I just had to say it out loud, “I’m going through a divorce.”

And that was all it took to have everything come falling in on me. It’s such a sad word. Don’t let me take anything away from the seriousness of this decision. These things are important. The weight of words are important. But I wanted to take a minute to explore its weight.

Divorces are not all the same. Kids, no kids. Some both agree it is for the best. Some are knock down, drag outs. And some have to deal with money and property.

Whatever you’re going through, try not to lump yourself into something you can’t grasp. It is a very personal thing, but don’t hold it in. I’m not saying be proud of it, but if it’s a word that’s making you sick, take it out and examine it.

You and your partner are getting a divorce.

If I could have talked to myself eight months ago, this is what I would have said:

Let me be the first to say how sorry I am.

I will not give you a silver lining to look towards, because they are temporary.

How are your finances? Are you okay with bills? How can I help you in this transition? Who’s feeding you and are you taking care of yourself?

If you want me to, let me sit beside you in the darkness and I will listen to the parts of your pain.

I can tell you that things will get better with time, but you don’t want to hear that either. You know things will get better. But right now, you’re really hurting.


No one in history knows your pain. And you are right. We are wrong.

Your pain IS unique. There are lots of variables and emotions that we all have to embrace.

People will be there for you, and then they won’t. And then they will. They have their own lives and their own battles, but it doesn’t mean they’ve also abandoned you. Your community is trying to figure out how to handle this as well. Have a bit of grace with them, especially if we are young and inexperienced with these tough things.

Let me buy you a drink.

But I’m going to make sure you don’t get out of control, and know that some nights, taking the edge off helps you to sleep better.

It’s going to take a while, and I’m sorry.

You are going to come out of it so much stronger. So much wiser.

But then, sometimes, it will hit you like a wave and you will have trouble getting out of your pajamas.

Let’s go get a cheeseburger.

You are loved and thought about. You are going to wake up tomorrow. It’ll still probably sting. But each day is a new way to process your pain, and you will. You will move and grow and change. You will be capable of such a deep love that the idea of having it again will excite you.

And some days, you will also imagine what it would be like if you were alone the rest of your life.

There’s no best way to go about these sorts of things.
If it seems like you need to do something hard and emotional for the sake of clarity and forward motion, DO IT. Your throat will get tight and your belly will burn, but it will make you stronger and softer.

The truth is, your story can go anywhere.

And this is me not giving you a false hope, but only to open your heart up again. Because you are needed in this world. And we want you to add to our lives just like you did when you were married. We want you to spend time with our kids and cook food for us and go out to get a drink, even if you are a third wheel. Trust me, the married folks you hang with will love on you. It will change, but they will, with time, love on you.


You are not damaged goods. We are all damaged goods.

But we are good.

And the piece of earth that shattered under your feet will be bumpy and raw for a while, but things will still grow. Greener. Taller. Deeper into the earth, through the cracks that will always be there.

Be free of God’s judgement and the judgement of your family and peers that watched you get married. You did not fail.

Go easy on yourself.

Accept the love people want to give you.

Go with what feels safe in certain times. If you are cautious about something or someone, give it some time. Because you will have opportunities to fulfill your needs, and with time, it will all become more clear.

Yes time, as much as you hear people telling you, will indeed heal a lot of things. You will still feel pain, but the sting becomes less and you become more.

And that’s the truth.

But for now, take it easy on yourself.

Use that scary word when you need to because it will get smaller and smaller.

It is a part of your story now, in a way you never thought it would.

You my friend, are resilient and the world needs you.

You my friend, are endless.




I’ve been trying something lately, with my writing.

I’ve been letting it sit. So often, I write with abandon. In the moment. A lot of times, it’s good. Sometimes, I think, “Dude, you need to chill out!”

And for this week, I’ve written at least five different posts. Either I’ll save them for a rainy day (which is coming much more often here) or I’ll trash them or stick them in my angst file. I realize, that sometimes the things that make sense in my head do so given a certain context. They don’t often translate that well when I read them, say, twelve hours later.

Lately, I’ve been clinging to single words.

Virtues, and such.

Words like: goodness, strong, fierce, Love, forgiveness.

And something I’ve been holding on to much closer:



I know that seems kind of dramatic. What am I trying to survive from?

Well, everything.
My life has been turned on its head.

When this happens, you grab aimlessly at things that make you feel better. Food. Alcohol. Mindless self indulgence.
And they work. Really well. For a little while.

What I’m coming to learn is that alcohol makes me sort of sad. And keeping my mind busy, is helpful when it’s about constructive things. And food? Well, I’m working it out. To say this is the season of the cheeseburger, might be an understatement. Fair enough.

Usually what I need, is to dull the edge. I wrack my brain, trying to not think about sh*t that has hit, is hitting, and will hit the fan. (Oh verbs, how I love you. I think if I were a verb, I’d like to be a helping verb.)

And on the horizon of all this, is an image. Something I recently saw. A poster by a local artist in which the word, “Survive” is embedded deep in a storm. On the horizon, you see the sun breaking through. For me, right now, imagery is huge. I’m rebuilding my writing desk with such things.

You do what you gotta do to make it through those storms.

But stand back, and look at yourself, if you can. Think about all those other times you weathered more than you thought you could handle.

When I say survival, sometimes I conjure up images of those Discovery Channel dudes, or Tom Hanks in “Cast Away”. In which case, neither of those people are actually needing to survive all that efficiently, considering there are cameras.

Then, there’s the real stuff. Folks with addiction, depression, loneliness, poverty.

The stuff you really have to dig deep to get out of. The things that take a village to change. Thinking you can change any of this by yourself is asking for too much.

To survive, you need others.

You need love, and forgiveness.

You need to fight.

You can never give up.

So to those out there, who feel like they are surviving, whether it’s relational, physical or financial, hold fast!

You are so much stronger than you think.

When your world collapses on you, remember this,

you are strong,

you are good,

you are fierce,

and you will, without a doubt,