"Sometimes when you lose, you win."

This is by far the longest I've gone without writing. Where did a month and a half go?

Generally, I do my best to put myself out there and share even some of my most vulnerable moments, but the last month and a half I felt as though I was being rolled in a giant wave and couldn't figure out which was was up. 

Honestly, it's entirely embarrassing. I left my job, my family and friends and Pennsylvania with the goal of finding my passion- that thing that makes me excited to wake up and go do it everyday (or at least not make me wonder if maybe I sold my soul to pay my rent). 

I spent an intensely life changing year in Estes Park, CO (which I seem to have left with impeccable timing as it's a giant flood zone currently) working at a residential high school with incredible teenagers who all had amazing resilience and strength; they taught me more about myself than I would've ever anticipated.

After a year of being constantly immersed in activity/work and surrounded by people, my fellowship ended and I returned back to Pennsylvania to be with my friends, family, and largely- the man I love. 

Initially, it was relief to finally be with my boyfriend, and especially to have the constant stress and frequent sensation that I was failing in being (good) enough alleviated. But as the weeks rolled on, I became increasingly more frustrated not knowing what my next steps were career/work/job wise. 

I realized that I hadn't found my passion. Not even close. 

"Who wants to read about my confused anxious floundering??" I'd ask when questioned about the lack of writing, but then one of my friends said, "Probably a lot of people. You're not the only one who struggles through times like these."

Oh. Right.

So, here it is. Even as I'm writing this, I hesitate and wonder if I should delete it all, but who knows- maybe someone out there doesn't need a 'how-to' or some profound revelation/inspiration, maybe they just want to know they aren't the only one wondering what the fuck to do next.

I realize that it may sound as though I regret returning; however, that couldn't be further from the truth. On the flip side of my angsty wandering/wondering is a revolutionary love that is, baby step by baby step, teaching me to let go and have a little trust in life.


I've never been good at waiting. Patience is not one of my (strongest) virtues. From what I can remember, this is the first time in my life I've felt this clueless and still, but that said, I've also never been very good at resting and allowing myself time to process and heal.

I'm currently in a position where I have the luxury of taking my time to figure out what it is I want so I don't end up in the same place I was in before I moved away (miserable and depressed), while stepping aside to finally attend to some old wounds.

At this point, I have no clear ideas of where I'm heading... but then again, maybe we don't always need to be heading somewhere. Maybe sometimes we need to learn to be still once in awhile so we're not always missing our lives while looking for the next big thing.

Maybe this moment IS the big thing.

And when I stop stressing out about my future for a hot second, I realize just how good my life is .right.now.

A Different Kind of Love Story

This isn’t your conventional love story. There is no “happily ever after,” or, maybe there is…

Once upon a time about 10 years ago I met a boy while visiting a friend in college. Not just any boy, mind you. Admittedly, on the surface, he looked just as regular as any other boy possibly could- tall and lanky with dark hair and sincere playful eyes. He liked to write, seek out adventure, play pranks on his friends and fool gullible girls (me) into believing he could call squirrels when in reality, he was secretly dropping food behind him.

I met him in the darkest years of my life; I was reeling from a great deal of heartache and loss and had more days of not wanting to wake up than I could count. There were some days I tried not to, but that is a story for another time and place. He brought laughter and light to my darkness.

Under the seemingly regular boy appearance, this particular boy seemed to possess an uncanny ability to see through to my soul. He saw the best in me even when it was shrouded by years of abuse and neglect. He told our mutual friend after our very first meeting, “That is by far the best girl I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

I didn’t know that until 3 years later, a week after his funeral.

“What the hell? How depressing. Where’s the love story?!” you may be thinking, but give me a moment to explain.

After 6 (ok, maybe 7) years of anger, frustration, heart-shattering sorrow and never really allowing anyone to get close- I finally began to recognize the gift he gave me.

This seemingly ordinary boy left me with the lesson of what it means to love- really truly love someone when they’re not at their best, but more, what it means to love unabashedly, whole-heartedly, deeply and honestly with no hesitation and no fear.

My great love story is not one that involves two people enduring through the years together. Instead, it is a short story where one brave boy unknowingly taught an unsuspecting girl to let go of her fear and sorrow in order to love- love people and love the very act of being alive.

His death was a gift in that he taught me that the only thing we are guaranteed is the very moment we are in. Each and every moment is of infinite value, and we must strive to permeate each second with as much awareness and gratitude as possible because we may never get that chance again.

Today, my love story has opened my heart to a new chapter that involves taking the amazing opportunity to build a relationship with someone who has captured my heart in a way that hasn’t happened in 10 years. I don’t know what the future holds, but I can say that this moment I’m in is abundantly full and is enough in and of itself.

…and she lived happily ever after.

Who Are You?

“I’m such an idiot,” I thought one night as I re-analyzed my last mistake for the thousandth time.

A few days later a few friends and I were discussing how the language we use affects how we see the world and others.

Saying things like “I am an idiot” versus “I acted like an idiot” attaches a value on us as a person instead of on the action.

We hear it around us all the time, “I am so fat," "I'm really ugly," "I'm so stupid," "I'm such a klutz," and so on and so forth. 

The words "I am" are powerful because they, sometimes without us even realizing it, are defining who we believe we are bit by bit. 

What we tell ourselves in those milli-moments have a collective impact that influence how we consistently perceive ourselves, and thus how we interact in the world. 

Own your actions and take responsibility when you make mistakes, but don't allow your mistakes to define your identity. 

Because who you are is not the sum of your mistakes. 

Home Is Where The Heart Is (Also: The Final Weeks)

Nine months ago I left my cozy stable life behind in pursuit of what I hoped would be a better life. 

Did I find it?

Yes and no. 

It's a story that's so popular these days; leave your stable well-paying job, sell all of your things, leave your home, live by the seat of your pants while hoping that the universe really will conspire to assist you once you make a decision (I'm still not so sure of that, Paulo Coelho).

I've only got 5 weeks left in this too-beautiful-to-be-real living and working space tucked away in the mountains. The last several weeks I've felt completely and utterly excited to start a new chapter of my life mixed with a sense of complete and utter failure. 

I have just as little clue of what I want to be doing with my life as I did when I arrived. 

In addition, as I reflect on the past several months, I catch myself wondering how much any of what I did really mattered. 

Did I just pour everything I could into something only to find it wasn't (good) enough? 

Generally, I have the wherewithal to pull myself back into a more rational positive mindset, but lately I've been struggling with everything going on back home for which I'm not present; a death, a major health issue, a struggling wandering heart, a family crisis, and a love.  

My friends are an incredible blessing, and even those who are struggling are reminding me that this decision was not a mistake. I've learned lessons here that I may never have learned any other way, and, I have a love reminding me of the home awaiting me. 

"You had to leave to find what you really wanted. You know now where your heart is. I know you don't know the specifics of what you'll be doing, but you know where you want to be. You'll figure the rest out, and we'll be here for you." 

So, I guess I lied a little when I said "no" in regards to my opening question. The answer is simply "yes," I did find a better life than the one I had been leading. This one has been full of learning, adventures, new friends, eye-opening experiences and a redefinition of what and where home and love are. Trite as the phrase "home is where the heart is" sounds (and is), it also holds a lot of truth. 

And as far as feeling as though what I've done isn't good enough, I have to remember that when we do the best we can, at the end of it all, we have to be ok with accepting that is good enough because it's all we've got. 

Latest Tiny Buddha Article: Trusting in the Present When You’ve Been Hurt in the Past

Please check out my latest post: Trusting in the Present When You’ve Been Hurt in the Past and let me know what you think.

Accepting A New Normal

"I doubt whether a quiet and unagitated life would have suited me- 

yet I sometimes long for it." -Lord Byron

I never thought I'd make it to 20.

I'm almost 30 now.

I've spent the majority of my life (sub)consciously planning to take care of myself and not allow anyone to get too close. Don't get me wrong, I have a few amazing friends who I would give my life for, and they for me. When I say "get too close," I mean the type of close who knows every inch of your skin, the weird noises you make at night, the stupid embarrassing things you find hysterical, your most fragile fears and vulnerable sacred hopes.

The kind of close that could devastate you in moments because they know the tenderest parts of your being.

After over 2 decades of watching people leave/betray/lie to me in some form or another, I had no intention to ever open up the possibility for someone to do it again.

...I opened up my life and the possibility for someone to do it again.

Over dinner with a friend I freaked out saying, "I can't do this. I'm too scared. I've spent so much time making myself ready to live my life alone- to travel and keep moving and not count on anyone and now this person is in my life. What if I let this guy in and trust him and then he just disappears like the rest?  I never imagined this would be possible... I thought my life was just going to keep being really fucking hard, and  now there's this potential for it to calm down and be happy?? "

He said, "You know, you may have to accept a new normal. Normal for you was not having anyone else there and staying safe in your defenses, but things can change. ...you also didn't think you'd make it to 20, but here you are almost 30."

Oh, right.

Aside from my absolute fear of being vulnerable and risking getting hurt because as much as we want guarantees someone won't leave us, that's wildly unrealistic- I was also afraid of letting go of my ungrounded wanderluster lifestyle. Is finding a(nother) stable(ish) job, a home,  a love and not living by the seat of my pants all of the time going to mean I'll become one of those boring mediocre drones who barely remember any of their lives?

But then I had this realization- I'm not letting anything go aside from what I think is expected of me. I won't become a drone because I've been cursed blessed with too many experiences that have driven in the lesson that life is short and we must do our best to LIVE and take nothing for granted. 

So here's the truth of the matter. Would I change a second of any of my traveling or moving? Not a chance. Will I stop having the incessant urge to see every bit of the world that I can before I die? Highly unlikely. Do I want a home base and maybe someone to come home to? Yep. Absolutely. 

And in order to do that last thing, I need to learn to trust- trust him, trust life and most of all, trust myself.

Here's to happiness in unexpected ways and places, even when, or maybe especially when, it challenges you to really see who you are and grow.

Starry Night

When night falls and the sun has given reign to the moon, look up. I don't mean just look straight ahead. I mean look up so that your neck is tilted back and you could potentially trip because you missed that rock on the ground. It sounds so basic, so easy- just look up. 

But how many of us really give any more than a passing glance to the star-lit infinite hanging over our heads at the end of each day? 

I spent a large percentage of today (and the last several) driving myself nuts while over-analyzing every situation I could possibly think of, getting engulfed in my 'To-Do' lists and trying to, once again, plan out my entire future all at once.

As I was walking back to my house late this evening, I felt compelled to look up. I have forgotten to do so for months. When I did, I was greeted by an incredibly sharp clear sky gorged with stars of varying intensities. I remembered immediately why it's so important to slow down, take a deep breath and, even if just for a second, let go of the 8 billion thoughts racing through our heads moment to moment.

It's like an instant meditation, a visibly intangible reminder of how infinitely small we are and that at the end of it all, most of what we worry about is insignificant in the grand scheme of things. 

We're so small, and yet every single thing we do creates millions of complex repercussions of which we will likely never know about. Our actions affect everything around us. It's a balance between understanding how profoundly significant we are and how absolutely minuscule we are at the same time. 

We're tiny, but we matter.

For me, it's the ultimate reminder to live the best I know how, to love with every ounce of my being and to be completely and utterly grateful for each numbered breath.