I am an extremely annoying person with unwavering high standards. What’s even worse, is that statement makes me a fraud, as even the people who know me well would describe me as, “the sweetest, most easy-going person.”
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Entering my 50s hasn’t been fun! It’s that simple. The big five-oh didn’t meet my expectations despite my efforts to make it dreamy. For my 50th birthday, I planned a trip to Greece and my actual birthday was a brilliant sea and land adventure on a beautiful island called Naxos. Let’s not forget that it was also a culinary paradise. But as much as I tried to get myself excited for the new decade, unfortunately outside my trip to Greece, it’s been a struggle.
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When did you first learn that you shouldn’t trust women? Or a better question might be, when did you learn to trust men more than you trust women? I remember the first time someone approached me with this question.
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When you mention menopause, most folks conjure up images of hot flashes as if it’s a quirky sitcom plot.
But hold on, my friends, this midlife moment can be a real roller coaster with some serious twists and turns, especially for those who find themselves in the wild world of medical menopause through the surgical removal of a uterus and/or ovaries.
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On a recent Monday morning while at work, I ran into a colleague who runs our company’s facilities department. I had an idea I wanted to share with him about how we can get more people to volunteer to respond to an emergency or a fire should there ever be one. As I approached him excited to share my thoughts, I felt my brain go blank as if I accidentally pressed the delete button. What happened to the safety feature asking me if I was sure I wanted to delete?
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So, here's a little story about a topic that might make you uncomfortable or raise an eyebrow – yup, we're diving into the realm of the "dry" conversation. I’m not usually the shy type but even I’m feeling a little bashful right now. Deep breath and here it is - I have a dry vagina.
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Recently, I had to do a quick Costco run during my lunch hour. Admittedly, images of Costco shopping do not generally conjure images of an exciting tale but, stay with me, it might surprise you.
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The best Thanksgiving I ever had started with an icy windshield and an ice scraper.
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Sharing our stories is one way we can overcome patriarchal thinking, figure out what is real, and build a world that is safer for all of us.
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A few weeks ago I went skiing, and I want to tell you why it was a big deal.
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In early June I went on an adventure traveling nearly 1,500 miles through national parks in the American Southwest.
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How and what does our posture communicate? What do people assume about us, based on how we present ourselves? How can we change those assumptions, if we don’t like them?
Anger’s not graceful. It’s not beautiful, it’s not feminine. It’s ugly, out of control, mean, even scary. I hate it.
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Several years ago while standing on a platform at Metrotech station in Brooklyn and waiting for the F train to arrive, I had a full-on rage blowup.
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You don’t know your house until you know it in the middle of the night,
When the floorboards creak.
Things settle.
Houses, people, all folded in the embrace of the softly familiar.
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When your love is betrayed and your trust severed with the precision of a scalpel, an emergence of grace is possible. “I’m devastated,” the betrayed one wails. “Stop with the spiritual mumbo jumbo!” Hold on, before you shut me down, read one more paragraph, then decide.
Over the years, I have experienced many shades of rejection. As a child of an immigrant family, I accepted this as an inevitable byproduct of my fate, and tried earnestly to assimilate.
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The uncomfortable truth was that this virus is a killer and we were the only ones who had the power to keep our family safe from the outside. It had to start with - US. It had to start with - NO.
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Recently, I’ve been feeling a little stuck. I felt uninspired. Putting my voice out into the world means it has to be big, important and perfect! Or does it?
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As I pulled the black dress over my head, I felt my throat tighten, my breath fall shallow while my chest began to gasp for air.
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I am an extremely annoying person with unwavering high standards. What’s even worse, is that statement makes me a fraud, as even the people who know me well would describe me as, “the sweetest, most easy-going person.”