Yesterday I cried. A few times. It was one of those days where I just felt the urge to cry at the strangest things, which surprised me, because I don’t cry very much anymore. I used to cry a lot. I’d guesstimate at least every other day. I never judged myself or felt embarrassed; it was a completely natural response over which I had very little control. Yeah, not everybody was into it (sorry, husband), but it was a release that my brain needed. I have no other explanation.


Yesterday was an absolutely gorgeous day, weather-wise. We had all the doors and windows open and enjoyed the cool breeze flowing through the house (it was a huge treat, considering it’s June and my vehement distaste for sweating). My husband watched YouTube videos on how to install his bandsaw; Sydney wandered freely in and out the front door; and I took my coffee to the back porch to watch the hummingbirds. I was so relaxed. Until my husband said, in a disciplinary voice, “SYDNEY! WHAT DID YOU DO?”

This phrase is commonly spoken in our household; I was not surprised to hear it, even if it was a bit early. I was just going to sit there and keep drinking my coffee, ignore the curiosity to know what she had done this time. She’s a high energy dog and I’m surprised she doesn’t think her name is “Hey Hey No No.” But then my husband said, “Your mommy is going to be SO MAD. MOMMY, come see what Sydney did.”


Sydney had found a stick – a glorious stick, covered in pine needles and spider webs – and brought it inside for her chewing pleasure. It was awful – partly because of the pine needles that were strewn all over my clean, recently-vacuumed-and-steam-cleaned floors; and definitely, DEFINITELY because of the spider webs. Oh my god, I was so grossed out. And mad. I WAS MAD. But if there’s anything I know, Sydney does not understand anger. I took a few deep breaths, toned it down to disappointment. She got some finger-shaking and shamey-ing, and then came the cleanup.

Which made me mad again. I felt like Cinderella, always cleaning up after everyone. Always cooking. Always disciplining. Always forever and ever and all the other absolutes. I was especially upset at the dog; not because of what she did, but because I felt like the perpetual Bad Guy. And so I cried. My husband hugged me and helped me clean up the mess and assured me I wasn’t the Bad Guy and that Sydney is just a DUMB OLD DOG (he said it right to her cute little face).

Shake it off, moving on, let it go, I’m not Cinderella, reset – OK! I felt better.

Then came time for yoga. Moving is hard, especially when you’re moving across an ocean and changing your life completely, and so my yoga practice had been on the backburner for a hot minute. It’s hard to describe, but I neeeeeed yoga, so I found a class near me (which is impressive, considering I’m 20 minutes from just about anywhere) and got my butt on my mat.

The instructor was a substitute, but she was wonderful. Some classes I’ve been to have an exceptional flow, and this one nailed it. I was in zen mode when she guided us into a meditative space. She asked us to imagine that we were timeless travelers, and that she would describe to us different scenes. We were to imagine ourselves in each scene, and to observe our thoughts and reactions without judgment.

Well, she started with the ocean. And the image of wiggling your toes in the sand. And the smells of the salty breeze. And then we traveled to a country scene, where we smelled fresh-cut grass and sipped lemonade on our porch. And I started to cry – slow fat tears running down my cheeks in the dark room. I tried not to judge my thoughts, but I simultaneously felt a deep sadness and overflowing joy. I love my new home, but I miss the ocean sometimes.

Back at home I was discussing my reaction in yoga class with my husband (this isn’t the first time I’ve cried in yoga, pffffffhahahahaha), and I realized my some of my sadness was me missing the feeling of success. I remember feeling so accomplished when we owned our charter yacht, and now we’re starting from the ground up to make a brand new living. I felt frustrated and overwhelmed and downright worried. What if we failed and lost everything?

My husband’s response: “Don’t torture yourself, but live everyday as if you could lose everything tomorrow. Enjoy everything you have today right now. These are the best moments.”

I might have cried one more time, but it was definitely warranted and I most certainly couldn’t help it that time. Plus, I don’t apologize for crying.


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