I am single. I am widowed. I am married. I am divorced. I am a mom. I have no children. I am a career woman. I stay at home. I am an artist. I am a cancer survivor. I have a doctorate. I finished
“How did I get here? This can’t be happening,” these words raced across my mind as I sat in a room with our pastor and the seeming stranger I was married to. But there I was, a church-raised, young woman in the throes of
The other day, as I was participating in my daily scroll on social media, a Facebook memory popped up on my feed. It was a heartwarming throwback of me and my youngest when she was just a baby. I looked tired, yes, but also
My inner critic, never at a loss for words, says “leave the place better than you found it.” Where she gets her information, and when she chooses to spring it on me is a mystery, but I listen up because sometimes she is simply
Winters chill keeps us inside. Inside our homes and inside our heads. I had never noticed before the beauty in winter. The beauty that comes from just stopping and resting and letting go of the chase and hustle, even just for a season. Maybe
I live in a constant state of interruption. Two minutes ago, my 18-month-old son ripped my half-written grocery list out of my hand while my daughter screamed because she couldn’t find her shoes. One minute ago, my son pulled my daughter’s full-length mirror off
I woke at 1:30 AM. Fully alert and rehashing the events from the previous day. I was angry, anxious, and agitated by people’s lack of integrity. Their unwillingness to be accountable for their actions and words. I choreographed responses, planned for the potential encounter,
I was so overwhelmed last week. And then God met me. But if I hadn’t been paying attention, I don’t think I would have noticed. I took a day off work because I had four doctor’s appointments in one day. The week had been
I never would’ve believed it if I hadn’t experienced it. Our bodies store trauma through associations with dates, places and seasons. For some, the holiday season is their trigger season. Personally, as the weather transitions from summer to fall, even if it’s the furthest
We found ourselves standing on opposite sides of the front door. I stood on the inside, tentative and shaking. He was positioned on the outside, his hands clenched, forming fists, and his jaw locked firmly in place. We had found ourselves in this position
“Deal in reality yet keep the faith,” was the mantra of my pastor in downtown San Francisco during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. Everyone suffered through it differently, some more than others. For me, the world seemingly descended into madness. The temptation was
Tomorrow, I return to the working world for the first time since I left J.P. Morgan Chase in 2014 to be a stay-at home mom to my twins. I have never regretted that decision, even in the moments where I could not afford a
I grew up in a toxic family. My childhood is riddled with unimaginable abuse, trauma, a lack of stability and yet, in some ways, I consider myself privileged. Did we have money? No. A majority of the time six of us lived in a
‘Concerned but Hopeful’ Asked: Dr. Zoe, As a mother and grandmother, I feel we are in uncharted territory in our culture. The innocence of children seems to be robbed from them in the world they live in, through every medium and outside influence they
“The most powerful stories may be the ones we tell ourselves.” —Brené Brown¹ It wasn’t the loaves of homemade bread she’d bake for our family, the way she’d serve me Ovaltine in bed before school, nor the daily schlepping to swim practices and other
I’m awake and up before my husband—The Cowboy—has gone to bed. It’s 1:21 a.m. and too darn early. I went to bed at 10, but I’m wide awake now. I’m afraid I’m getting weird. Unbalanced. And while I really love getting a jump on
Oh my goodness, it’s with tremendous humility that I write about adoption. To me, there is no greater honor than to have been chosen to adopt each of my babies. If you had asked me 10 years ago if I would ever be giving
