My life with the Sullivan boys

I have stuff in me. Stuff that needs to exit my body as soon as possible. stuff that makes my back seize up and my joints ache. Thoughts, ideas, judgments, emotions, resentments, longing, to-dos and worries, cravings, regrets. I often think about past relationships. One's I'd like to revisit with the knowledge I have now. I want to direct my younger self to respect myself, to say no more often. I want to actually hear when someone says they don't want me. To not waste any of my time second-guessing my choices and directions that my life might take. I want to tell that beautiful 23-year-old girl to move on. He's trying to tell you, and you aren't listening. You are not a victim in this life. Your choices are made by you. Going through life as a victim is a familiar place. It invites me in to sit in the familiar chair of longing, wishing I could be better but never getting off my ass to make anything happen. Victims think they are rational and sane. I didn't choos...

 As I stand in my decimated backyard with my leaf blower on, I think of the mom's group Facebook post last week complaining about her neighbor leaf blowing after 6:30 at night and how inconsiderate it was. To comment on this post would not be helpful. I walked outside my house this afternoon and was stunned by the stillness and the quiet. It's Easter, people went to church, had an egg hunt in the park, and are getting ready to attend brunch at the country club with friends and family. I don't celebrate easter. not because I don't believe in God. I just don't require a special day to talk with God. My sixteen year old got a shit ton of candy from Peter Cottontail and that's enough. I need to move, I need to accomplish something measurable today. The backyard is a big dogs' playground. All of the grass had worn off from the constant play between my Vizsla and my Doberman. The mud was so bad that I put straw all over the lawn to soak it up. Now, I tell myself, ...