What if we bet on ourselves for once and became our own best friend? What magic might unfold?
My highest self isn’t having it with this dreamy nonsense! Get to work she says!
Certainly I've been thinking about my late mom (Diane), and the grandmother I never met (Elizabeth), and her cousins (names unknown) on the genetic chart, called a pedigree. I've been thinking about other women too.
Debby and Angela, two women I knew and admired, both not much older than myself, who died recently of breast cancer. Circles blackened and crossed out.
I thought I had writer's block. For three months (almost) I despaired that the writing gods had gone away and it was officially over. No more. All hope was lost.
What I did not see (or more accurately, did not want to see) was that I was avoiding my truth.