I have lost my ability to sing. I wonder if my tender emotions have been part of it. So I went on a retreat to learn to love myself.

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.

I was 35 years old the first time I got angry. It took me being in a really safe place. But I was mad. And I let her know it.

I have a fierce pride in what I believe in. My goal is to live this intention all the time but fear gets in the way. How to deal with it?

I’ve learned how important it is to honor my needs, not deny them. Now I bow to the wisdom of my vessel and honor the inner alarms.

My body speaks to me. Sometimes I don’t understand the messages. Memories hold energy. How can I release the energy and pain?

Understanding my spouse chose an exit point helps me accept the trauma of that day. It helps me understand there is a greater force at work

As soon as I stopped fighting with her disease, as soon as I stopped resisting, something drastically changed.

Pain is a teacher that nags at me when I don’t pay attention. I never experienced unrelenting pain until I was brought to my knees by fibro

I used to be a grudge holder. If someone hurt me, I would forever remember who they were and what they did. Then I learned something.

I was stuck in a habit of negative thinking -- the worst thing would happen in any situation. Then I learned words have energy

I have used food all my life to hide my pain. Then I faced my food issues as a spiritual practice.

I gave myself away in relationships granting other’s wishes ignoring my needs. Now I demonstrate what a boundary feels like.

I have been cultivating my true self for decades, peeling away the pain and confusion, the layers of thick crusty protection that helped me.

Food is a buffer and gives me perceived peace and conformity. I belong when I eat what others eat. I’m part of the web of life.

I stand before my inner fire and bow my head in gratitude for the losses in my life.

Her hair hung below her waist bumping at the back of her knees when she walked. So much of her perceived identity was in her hair.

My tears were profound. The feelings, the depression. I slowly threw the journal pages and gifts into the fire, one piece at a time.

I’m getting tired of dragging around all this old baggage of emotional pain.

I say to my teacher I am not ready, I say to myself there must be more, I say to my friend you must be mistaken