All posts tagged: healing

RUNAWAY GIRL ♡ PART ONE

I KNOW NOW THAT THE DARKNESS I HAD SEEN WAS MY OWN SHADOW. * * * Cut it off, run now. Don’t look back. You must go missing for him to learn how to miss you. I pack my proverbial suitcase and head for the door. I look back and know that what is left will not be the same if I returned. But returning is not an option, at least not now. I must learn to keep my feet moving past the door, out to the street, into a cab and set dynamite across the bridge as I cross over the canyon. Never to return. Without him, I may never know if this house we painted pink would have ever been a home. With him, the walls breath in staggered paces, huffing and puffing as if their lungs had been filled for centuries with the toxic fumes of my own self-loathing—gasping to make out the word: “Run.” * * * But I do stop running. I return. From winter in Phoenix to a 79-degree night …

April Book Club Pick: Love Warrior by Glennon Doyle Melton

Welcome back, #QSBookClub friends! For this month’s book club pick, I wanted to share with you an incredible memoir that may seem like just a book about redeeming a marriage, but really, it is a book about self-trust, facing pain head on, and opening your eyes to the light within you to heal. This author has truly become a guiding light in my life and she has no idea. By sharing her journey, the authenticity of her work and genuine intentions have led me to my own truth and have brought me closer to my authentic self. It is because of this book that I have begun to manifest the desires of my heart, and find peace through struggle. April 2017 #QSBookClub Pick Our April Book Club read is LOVE WARRIOR: A MEMOIR by Glennon Doyle Melton! Where to Buy the Book Love Warrior is available wherever books are sold and the hardcover is currently on sale at Amazon for only $11! Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Target <<SIGN UP HERE>> Live Book Discussion On Tuesday, April 25 at …

Winter as a Time of Healing

I hide away, holding myself close as my inner guide whispers softly, “Everything is going to be alright.” I stroke my left forearm with my right hand, up and down until my chest reduces to a steady drumbeat. I throw my hands up in the air, fall to my knees and say, “I surrender.” I surrender to the pain in that moment because it has a job to do. It has an occupation, a resume, a portfolio, an agenda. A briefcase, even. It came with a purpose. And I allow it to fulfill their duty. I allow myself to be audited, to mark down the notes of what is going on right now in this moment so it can be handled. I sit still for a moment to cry and as I finish crying, I smile. I smile because I know that while I purge the grainy, muddy goop that comes from the bellows beneath me—spilling out on to the floor—I know this also means a new era is coming. A fresh start, a stronger …