frank ly

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. —Maya Angelou

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. —Maya Angelou

there was nothing routine about my week, and yet everything- albeit not outstanding, revealed intricacies and required nuances and newly forged resiliency techniques bestowed upon me with sobriety.

i completed my will and have begun the simple process of leaving some instructions. it is an emotional exercise even thought it was not remarkable. it has, however, allowed me to move slightly closer to my sister and her family. tender mercy.

i experienced splitting at my workplace. it was icky- kinda like smelling gasoline or butane. i kept wondering if someone would be tossing a match near it soon. i was tenuous at best.

i drove south with 10 gallons of paint and some material in my truck to begin to give the springs office a makeover. It was not overwhelming. it just was the very start of transformation.

i became more intimate with leaning into discomfort. i don’t really know how to accurately describe the difference between being submerged and emergence. but i know that one is much less dark and i find it easier to breathe.

my blogging colleague sheria reid passed away on july 1. i was not afforded the opportunity to say goodbye. nor to communicate the comfort her comments gave to me through these blogging years. it might be like never being able to pull a favorite cashmere sweater over my head again. totally sucks.

happy independence day to my readers.

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