Normality is a well-paved street; it is good for walking, but no flowers will grow there.* I've always thought normality was overrated and still do. It's just not that interesting to me. At least not FOR me. Which is sometimes a surprise to people who meet me because I look normal. I had a normal . . .
For every friend that fades away, someone new appears or someone old comes back, in a kind of homeostasis that is undeniable. Changes in our roster of friends are just part of living --especially living a long time. If you're young and can't even imagine this, just wait. You'll see. Sometimes . . .
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood. Have you ever felt misunderstood? Have you ever felt "how could someone I have known so well and so long NOT know my heart? How could they get it so wrong?" We've all been there and I'm no different. Most of us have been hurt by people dear to us who . . .
Envy seems to be everywhere, these days. More than ever. Or maybe we see it more now because social media posts give us a way to compare ourselves with others. Social media posts can make us envious of others, whose lives we fear are bigger, more interesting, more secure and happier than our . . .
See me Feel me Touch me Heal me Who sees you? Oh, I don't mean by eyesight. I mean really, really SEES you, the totality of the person you are. Think about it. Is there anyone like that in your life? Even if you think hard, I'll bet you won't be able to come up with that many people who really . . .
"I don't feel the same connection I once did with her," I said to my husband, not too long ago. I was talking about a longtime friend with whom it was getting harder and harder to remain connected. "You've moved on," he said,"and left her behind. She's still back in the old life." I thought about . . .
There's a lot going on in my life and only so much time, which means I can't do everything. As part of my ongoing effort to set limits for myself, I'll sometimes look at relationships that are beginning to feel unbalanced. Sometimes I feel as if I am not giving enough. But more often, taking stock . . .
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Mercilessly, the rain beat down from a grey sky. As I clicked my windshield wiper lever to high, I looked up at the Santa Cruz mountains framing the road, the same ones I'd see on my way to your house with brownies, a coloring book, home-made chicken soup, a book, lemon cake or with Riley. I was . . .
Look around. Are you surrounded by people who are real friends? "Of course," some might respond. But others might use the question as an exercise to evaluate the people they believe are friends. Or those they have questions about. We each have our own criteria for friendship, don't we? But . . .