HOT MESS

Five weeks.

Baby #3 is five weeks old already. It feels like it’s been five years, and also, five minutes all at once. And you guys, I’m so fucking. . .

TIRED.

You thought I was going to say in love didn’t you?

No. Tired. I am fucking exhausted as fuck.

I mean, yes I am in love with my baby. Over the moon, practically first time mother level to be quite honest. My social feeds are ridiculous and phone’s memory has been evaporated by baby pictures. This little boy is so fucking CUUUUTTTTEEE.

But that’s not my point, today. He is adorable. I am delighted to be a mother again. But I am also, as you may have caught on— Continue reading

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CLARITY

Clear. Clearer. Clearest.

To get what you want, what you really want, you have got to get clear with yourself and the universe.

Be specific, to the detail, as line item detailed as is possible for you.

And, think BIG. Ask for the thing that seems out of reach right now. Ask for the thing you want but think you don’t deserve. Ask for the thing that belongs to you. It’s already yours.

Pause. One of two things are probably happening now. Continue reading

TAKE A LOOK AROUND

I’m sitting on my couch late at night on a Friday reflecting on this year, its lessons, its pain, its growth, and looking for the light parts. Looking hard.

I’m here in maternity sweatpants with a sweater stretched over my bouncing and expanding belly, wearing a messy bun and practically no make-up despite having gone to a movie with my family earlier this evening, and staring at half polished toes I can’t reach.

It feels a lil’ bit different than last year same time. Tad. But then again, all of 2016 felt different. And not really me at my fullest expression for a good chunk of it. It felt a little… out of body, like, literally.  

When I look at the things that make me go, the things that make me a powerful me, I don’t see many of them hidden in the remains of this year. Continue reading

STORIES

The holidays come with a lot of stories each year.

No, not Santa stories. Not Hanukkah stories. Not even family blooper stories, although all of those do get shared as well.

Instead, it’s the stories I tell myself — I’m not giving my kids enough. I’m giving the kids too much. I don’t give the kids enough consequences. I give them too many consequences. If my kids love their stepmother, it means they love me less, and that I am insufficient and inadequate. If they miss their dad, it means I’m not doing my job well enough. I can’t fully forgive him for the hurt he caused me because he doesn’t forgive me either. He doesn’t deserve to be happy, but I do.

I’m not doing enough, there is more for me to do here, and there, and there, and also there. I am only of value if I am doing something. Nothing I do is ever enough to be excellent.  

I’m too different for the rest of my family to like me. They just don’t get me, and they don’t want to. I’ll never be the kind of normal required to be loved fully by my parents.

Yes. Those stories. Those scripts. Those tapes. Those records.

Continue reading

ALL THE WAY (IN)

My God I’ve been itching to write. But that whole time thing, it’s been placing some additional obstacles in my way to a screen and a keyboard free of tasks lately.

Maybe because, as is mostly usual for me, I have a lot going on at the same time. Maybe even more than usual, if that’s possible. I bought a business, I’m managing multiple clients for my freelance work, I have a mostly finished book on my short list, another a barely started book just chilling in outline format, I’m teaching three college courses this semester, we have two kids playing two different sports on four different days plus one in a club and both in a “free” school that asks for an unreasonable amount of time and money from its parents, and also, I’m still growing that baby in my body and stuff.

Sometimes I even get to hang out with my husband when we’re both still awake. Weird I haven’t had time to write. Or practice. Or see my friends. Or unclench.my.fucking.jaw.

Here’s an interesting trade-off though, that I feel is worth sharing. While I haven’t been able to write for myself for awhile, my yoga practice is all kinds of off between this belly getting in the way and my time being massively constricted, and I stopped running in my first trimester, I still feel grounded and connected to myself. Continue reading

GET YOURS


So my birthday is today and I’m now a number that is bigger than the number I was yesterday. Also, I am part of the TEDxSacramento Core team. Also, we have an event today, on my birthday. Also, also, that means I will be at TEDxSacramento, as a part of the core team, on my birthday for the birthday that is for a number that is bigger than the one I was yesterday.

Squeal!

Guess what else? Since last year when I was in New York City having the best.day.ever with my then-boyfriend-now-husband, we’ve done some epic shit. We got married, for that one thing, did a bunch of yoga shit, took some trips, started some projects, moved, and created some cool experiences for the kids. I earned clients and work that align with who I am as a human being and what I’m up to, started growing a baby that’s due this coming winter, oh, and in a little under a month we’ll be announcing our new yoga home, one that is partly . . . OURS.

No big deal. Continue reading

THE RUB

I’ve always been a little bit outside “the norm.”  Not average. Challenging. Bold. Big in body, mind, and presence. Strong-willed, determined, and overly verbal about it. A storyteller by nature. I’m a dreamer who likes to make lists. A “YES” who likes to map it.

I rarely choose to do things the easy way. I like puzzles, and problem solving. I crave adventure. I need variety like I need air. I don’t like the word or the state of “normal.” I don’t like to hold still. Conventions make me nauseated. I like to learn the rules so I can bend and twist and break them when it’s time.   

I rarely play it safe. I’m uncomfortable playing small. There are never enough ideas or things for me to learn.  If you say we can go ten miles I want to go one hundred. My quench for growth is insatiable.

I love the way change calls me out of my comfort zone and into a terrifyingly fresh new space.

This, makes me . . . well. Me. It makes me, me. And I’m not sorry for that, anymore. It’s who I am. I’m good with it. Great, actually. Continue reading

THE THING

When I was 16, this girl at a leadership camp we both attended said at the end of our week about me “There’s just something about Michelle. You can tell just by being around her that she’s going to do something really great.

Every day since that day, I’ve been wondering— BUT WHAT?  

So I went into teaching. Because I loved kids, and I loved working in a place where my work made a difference in real time and in the future. I went to college, and got all the degrees, and all the credentials and all the labels that said “Teacher.”

Being a teacher seemed like it was going to be a really great thing. Probably THE Thing. Except it wasn’t. Not then, for me, anyway.

I put in a solid and commendable effort too. Eleven years in Elementary Education including a three year stint in School Administration, and then five semesters as a College Professor. And I was a good teacher. I made a difference. I know I did great work.

But instead of lighting me on fire, it was burning me out.

Continue reading

THE SOUND OF SILENCE

I want to talk to you about this time I felt stuck. Really stuck. Really down. Really not myself.

Depressed. I would actually classify this thing that happened, that I’m coming out of, as depressed. And that is scary as fuck.

I have lots of reasons why it might have happened. Significant health issues, insomnia, injuries and work limiting access my practice, financial hell, not teaching anymore, not sharing yoga the way I love to share it. The things that I identify myself with, the things that help make me, be me, were not secure.

And even though I am wrapped in love. And even though I have so many things to be grateful for, and even though I am never, ever, ever standing anywhere, at anytime, alone, I felt removed. Not having all my things in place all ultimately resulted in me not showing up powerfully for myself, or for anyone else.

Outside of the things that I do — who am I?

I spent three years in inquiry, three years exploring, three years doing the work and building heat by throwing every available stick in the fire, and then suddenly, I just sat down and stared at the flames. What did I build? Why did I build it? Who is it for? How do I keep it going?

What the fuck do I do now?

Continue reading

SOMEONE THAT I USED TO KNOW

Charter schools, ten year old cars, overdue bills, a bustling life in the middle of the city, a network of personal and professional contacts that extends across nearly every state and a few continents, a daily yoga practice, a partner that both humbles and ignites me, writing as a profession and not just therapy, allowing my body to have curvy parts, and a commitment to the constant redefinition of self — these are all things I never believed would be mine.

Miracles. My life has been nothing short of a series of miracles since birth, and it’s only these last three years or so that I understood that.

Continue reading