I have been managing my anxiety for years now and sometimes I still lose control.

I used to beat myself up. If I messed up, I'd call myself names. I'd have deep regrets for things I didn't do. That changed with a question.

We live our lives doing the best we can, seeking love and acceptance, finding guidance and direction. Fear divides us.

I want to be heard. When I am listened to, I feel heard. When I feel heard, I feel more present. When I'm present, I more fully participate.

Life is full of opposites. The only consistent non-changing aspect is my inner light, my inner spark, my inner fire.

My greatest pivotal moment came when I viewed myself as a pupil of life rather than a victim. I still struggle with it but I'm learning.

A black marker mars my sight. How am I supposed to see my way through this murky world? I’m not ready to welcome it in.

At that moment I could finally feel it and I realized I would never, alone, fill that bottomless hole inside me. A visualization helped.

I was lost in my search. Anywhere I looked I was turned away, disappointed, disrespected and rejected. I wore out my excuses.

Do I stay informed and take action or do I focus on my inner life? Is there a way to do both?

I don’t remember when I discovered her. She emerged one day sitting in front of me, watching me.

I've been on an accelerated course discovering myself. At times, I feel confused and shaken when I compare my insides to other's outsides.

It’s so easy to believe what we see, feel or were taught when there is so much more. Sometimes it takes someone else holding a light for us.

Those three words are so helpful to hear when I’m struggling with self-acceptance. As a child I wasn’t believed.

I chose to call close my inner child. I'm 8 years old, standing in the yard. If I had the opportunity to speak to her, what would I say?

When I listened to reflections, I felt myself become an observer of me listening. I live more with the dualism of being human and spirit.

Life gives us opportunities and some of them appear to be safe and some not. Some decisions lead nowhere and cause me pain.

Years ago, in my old life when I worked as a freelance court reporter on the road, I had a conversation about the meaning of little things.

Yesterday, I walked right up to the edge of a bus I was ready to throw myself under, metaphorically speaking. It was a pattern I recognized.

Surrendering to pain sounded like defeat to me and I wasn’t going to be defeated. I wasn't interested in befriending pain. It was my enemy.