adventures in quarantine, Uncategorized

All the right ways.

Monday morning this thing happened.

I thought about how the previous week the scale read 150.0 pounds even. The exact number. A tenth of a pound less and I would have been able to officially ring some imaginary bell of excellence or success or I don’t even know what.

But the universe needed me to wait. And I get that. I’m down for whatever lessons I need to learn. And so I waited. No sweat.

Then Monday arrived and I limit scale curiosity to once a week because ocd. I woke up and did my regular routine of appreciating my body and feeling my skin and my ribs and my hips. I felt good in my skin. Content.

When I got on the scale, it was almost alarming.


Holy numbers, Batman.

It makes me smile to think of all those years, trying so damn hard to not focus on the number, and the number never budging. Now that I’m keenly focusing on all sorts of other places–really honing in on purpose–the scale freaking jumps. The universe is fun.

This could have been a thing that tripped me up, as it did many times in the past. Such a “win” used to feel terrifying and I had been the girl to sabotage wins. You wanna know what I did this time? How I proceeded after stepping off the scale?

I did the same. damn. thing. I do every day. I follow routine and I stay actively engaged in my health and my family and my well being. I continued to purge my garage and build healthy relationships (Beth came over), and lead with faith and love instead of fear and doubt.

And none of it is fucking easy. It’s work. And some days it feels less work, but still it’s work. Above all else tho, it keeps me safe and happy and gives me the freedom to bring my best self to this world. And for right now, that’s the goal.


I knew I loved you then.

I’m lying here next to my husband and it’s almost 2am. In the trick of the dim light, he looks like someone I only half recognize. Which is an interesting metaphor for everything else.

My brain can’t wrap around the fact that he drank. I saw him a couple times before he got sober–before we met–, but I didn’t know him. I noticed him while he was detoxing, but didn’t know him then either. No, the Chris I knew was the sunbeam who walked around making everything brighter. And he’d probably argue it was all me. He’d probably say his sunshine came from my existence.

I dunno about all that.

I don’t know him as an active alcoholic nor a drunk. I only know him in recovery and sober and clean. And so I look at him now, with the light hitting his face all wrong. And he is not the Chris that I know. He is not the Chris I experienced for the past two weeks. He is not the Chris of the last 34 hours, since finding out he had been drinking and is now detoxing.

I’m just not sure who he is. I’m not sure he knows right now though either. And I think maybe that’s okay. I don’t have to recognize him just yet. The caterpillar metamorphoses into a butterfly and isn’t recognizable through every stage. I don’t have to recognize him to know his value. His worth. His goodness.

What I do know is that I’m not going anywhere. And that’s all I need to know right now.