Comforting My Critical Self

You know you have an internal critic when your therapist tells you that you have an “Integrated Self” and a “Critical Self.”

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Practicing Kindness

A friend gave me a Skylight photo frame that allows me to upload photos to the Cloud and then watch as the device takes me through the sequence I have uploaded. We have over forty photo albums, and each time I take out the aging pictures, I am thrown into a moment where I see myself…

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An End to Bitterness

Lately, I feel like I did as a child, when I would spin and spin in circles until I fell to the ground with dizziness. As a little girl this was fun. As an adult, not so much. In the past five years I can’t seem to find a single thing that I haven’t examined.…

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If Life Was a Food Fight

My critical eye takes in my form in the long oak-framed mirror as I tuck the billowy white top into my jeans. On principle, I don’t wear white. “White” is my lunch, make-up, and pit stains on display for the world to see. It’s impracticality, stamped with an expiration date.

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He Makes Me: Thoughts In A Season Of Quarantine

I will never forget the based-on-a-true-story movie, The Impossible, about a family who, while vacationing in a paradise resort in Thailand, was hit by the 2004 tsunami. The scene that grips me most is when Naomi Watts is reading on a lounge chair and suddenly sensing something is not right. That something terribly powerful is…

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Designed to Touch

The pH (acidity) of our blood must be kept within a very narrow range (7.35-7.45) for life to remain viable. Anything outside of this causes our body stress and, sometimes, harm that isn’t reversible.   Panic attacks, diarrhea, dehydration, kidney malfunctions, and hundreds of other things can cause the body to become dysregulated. Our bodies are…

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Something Is About To Change

I had run out of ideas of how to get through the chaos that was building so that we could help the children learn. I wanted to quit and felt like a complete failure.  My principal, though, was wise and kind. She listened intently, saw both my despair and my goodness, and simply responded,

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Do Not Disturb: A Touched-Out Mom

Music was softly playing in the background and my three-year-old and infant were sweetly sleeping in unison while my husband and I were driving on our way to a fun family outing. Breathing in deeply, I quietly savored the calm that surrounded us in the car. My husband must have also been enjoying that moment…

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