Friday Chicken #271: Roxy all the time

Where I cover the good and the hard in my week, visiting the non-preachy side of ritual and self-reflection. It is Friday and we are here. With the glorious (glorrrrrrrrrrrious!) return of the wham boom. What worked? Being Roxy. At Rally (rally!) this week, I decided...

It starts with an A…

I am thinking about a word and it starts with an A. Actually, I am thinking about many words that start with A. This is reminding me a bit of trying to figure out the real name of the Schmoppet, which might or might not begin with a C. Is it Alabaster? Nope. But that...

Gazelle state.

Shawn, who cares nothing at all for sports or athleticism in any form, and would probably prefer that it all just disappear in a whoosh of smoke, has noticed how very much I do care. As well as the way I am constantly descending to the red rug to breathe some yoga, or...

PTSD. A letter from me to me.

Deep breath. You will be okay. You are okay right now. A brief explanation. This letter is a reminder from slightly more conscious me who is not in the throes of panic and terror, written for sad, scared me who forgets what is true. It is part of my Book of Me, part...
The Fluent Self