Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Ode to the Single Mom.

tom-and-boo-on-the-rocking-chair-country-version-1

Oh sweet single mom

At the end of the day

When you flop exhausted

And road weary

Into your bed

The pillow beside you

Empty

Whether by choice

Or by chance

Intended or unforeseen

It matters not

You keep your reasons

Close to your heart

Along with all

The other artifacts

That brought you to this place.

The darkness settles in

And the mind races

Relentlessly

Out of control

It babbles and rebukes

Bluffs and bitches

These noisy

Disrespectful

Unkind thoughts

That drip

Persistently

Into the wells

Of tired

Spent eyes

Sockets full.

Your body aches

And cries out

For comfort

Relief

Reassurance

A gentle caress

Tenderness

Human contact

Anything will do

At times like this

When you are

Depleted

Drained

Consumed

By the demands

The needs of others

Your children

Always come first

That’s the deal.

These cherished offspring

The loves of your life

Their birth

The ultimate creative act

Nothing compares

And you know it

You became a Goddess

In the moment

Of their conception

And they are yours

Eternally.

They are the source

Of your greatest pride

Deepest devotion

Unwavering adoration

Biggest fears

Grandest hopes

They inspire you

To soar with the angels

They provoke you

To grovel in the mud

With the devil himself

They have the capacity

To bring out the divine

Reveal the retched

Make you feel

Larger than life

Insignificant as a mite

They give you

Super powers

When you feel helpless.

They bring meaning

To your life

They bring purpose

To your days.

You are unfailingly present

To make their daily life

Extraordinary

The task is both

Daunting and endless

You are there

In the trenches

The bleachers

And hard benches

On the sidelines

Leading the charge

And the loudest cheer.

You are the one there

For homework

For practice

For sports events

For dance lessons

For music recitals

For teacher night

For beach days

For dog walks

For stray cats

For bike rides

For Sunday dinner

For Monday mornings.

You take temperatures

And wipe runny noses

You dry tears

And supply tickles

You’re a chauffeur

And a chef

Entertainer

And educator

You are the

Tooth Fairy

The Easter Bunny

And Santa Claus

Your arms are always

Ready for a hug

Your lips prepared

To smile

Your voice trained

To sing

Your heart eager

To laugh

Your hand fixed

To hold

Your storytelling skills

Are epic

And your goodnight kisses

Are unforgettable.

You are a single mom

But you are not alone

Know that

You are loved

And cherished

Admired

Needed

Respected.

You may not hear it

When your head rests

So heavy on your

Singular pillow

But the applause is loud

The honor immense

And the gratitude mighty.

boo-tom-at-the-abandon-farmhouse

tom-and-boo-on-the-rocking-chair-1

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Why You Shouldn’t Edit Yourself.

10394808_10152333933496644_3305197128781978071_n

Girl Warrior. Resist the urge to constantly edit yourself. Change, if necessary. Improve, yes. Grow, most certainly. Challenge your current state of reality, absolutely. Evolve, positively. Do all these things. Engage fully and passionately in the process of becoming.

But also remember the beautiful being you are. Right here and right now.

While you’re on the progress path, realize with every precious scrap of your consciousness that there are wonderful dear things about you that are quintessentially perfect. These are the idiosyncratic things, the singular, sometimes quirky, rare and unusual characteristics that you, and only you, possess. No one else can claim ownership of these truly marvelous qualities. Remember that.

Herein lies your X-Factor. The je ne sais quoi of you. The distinctive trademark that no one else can copy, duplicate, replicate, plagiarize, pirate, poach or clone. Your bona fide stamp, your permanent tattoo, your indelible birthmark. Don’t hold something like this back. Flaunt it.

So wear your bedazzling Lone Ranger brooch Girl Warrior, and let it shine. Loud and proud. No editing. No paring back. No curtailing. No reining in or diminishing. No not ever.

6a65d3ca-9606-4f5f-8c14-da936d2ff815

844fb3fc-df01-49d9-98ea-0f2eab1d02d0

12723_10153853814940113_1185200500_n

390010_10151082881766266_1170454349_n

1928699_72948381219_1895369_n

11025766_10152617107616205_3398939073831257426_n

14516488_10153719178061266_7514810008257205821_n

15281808_10153940278782274_511820491_n-1

img_4266

fullsizerender-1

fullsizerender-1-1

15271188_10154631683385120_162488838_o

 

 

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Never too Late to Start Over.

430364_625040677638_735014306_n-1

Girl Warrior. It’s never too late to start over. To press the refresh button. Begin anew. Hit reset, reboot or recharge. Give yourself a second chance. Or third, fourth, tenth, hundred times a hundred.

And see what happens.

No matter where or what you’ve been or done or said or not said up until this very moment, matters not. Really, truly, completely absorb this. Believe it. Not just with your mind but with your heart. In fact, let your heart take the lead with this particular endeavor. For your heart’s ancient omnipresent wisdom will guide you every step of the way. It will not fail you.

So fear not.

Then, remember the innocence, the wonder and pure gorgeousness of your Little Girl Warrior. Remember her? She’s there now and always has been. Go back to her. Wrap your loving arms around her. Have a heart to heart. Take her by the hand. Renew your acquaintance with this precious person. The young Girl Warrior, who wore the cape and armed with wide-eyed wonder and a great big unstoppable imagination, believed she could be anyone, do anything, go anywhere. Conquer the world in her rare and one-of-a-kind fashion. She was radiant Starshine. And she is still with you.

Girl Warrior, wipe the slate clean and go out and reinvent yourself today in a way that would make Little Girl Warrior proud. So proud.

2159_54065321643_3785_n-1

2159_54065331643_5060_n-1

2159_54112781643_1632_n-1

305350_10150325481530998_2117178536_n-1

1377264_10151629700646644_1466368740_n-2

11391401_10152845262525846_3535383108110079880_n-1

14875306_10154540709035120_3787473_n-1

14885890_10155019422900288_614075886_n-1

14914533_10157601601430591_346872478_n-1

img_0052-jpg

14875331_10154487721901223_1317631062_n-1

14877775_10154634907555996_1690988448_n-1

img_0056-jpg

cheryl

14826209_10153850536710689_483095_n-1

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Recovering Type A Personality.

946336_10151391762686644_895711855_n-1

My name is Boo

And I am a Type A Person.

But I want to get better

I do

I really really do.

I want to be released

And set free.

Free from the shackles

The fetters and golden bracelets

The relentless drive

To do more

Have more

Be more.

Free from the demands

The swelling and driven ambitions

And endless aspirations

All those needs

The wants

And desires.

Free from the goal setting

And achieving

Striving

Performing

Accomplishing.

Forever reaching

Yet never quite attaining

Never enough.

But

Enough is enough

For I am in recovery

And always will be.

One day at a time

I am learning to

Let go

To relax and release.

I am learning to

To give up …

Taking charge

Being in control

Having my way

Ruling the roost

Sitting in the driver’s seat

Running the show

And being the best.

Being the best.

For these are false illusions

All part of my fantasy

My self-deception

A lifelong hallucination

And deception

The all-consuming

And draining credo

I worshipped.

My name is Boo

And I am in recovery.

10298753_10152052837626644_4689557783355833163_n-1

76396_463416041643_3526295_n-1

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Sunday Morning.

418146_10150588726116644_1592281773_n-1

Hey E Baby

I was thinking about that Sunday morning

Just after we bought the house

It was November and the rain

Was pelting on the window

All dark and dreary outside

So you put our first log in the fireplace

I made coffee just for the two of us

You were hanging photos of the family

Framed in black and white

And all those paintings from the artists

Who had passed through our lives

My Barbara Lewis CD was playing

Baby I’m Yours

The sweet soulful sounds

That have the power to break your heart

You took my hand

And we danced around our new living room

You sang the chorus into my ear

While I cried into that soft spot

On the side of your neck

Hey E Baby

I think those were

The best two minutes of my life.

 

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Feel the Pain.

13815202_10153695006060918_327432466_n (1)

Girl Warrior. Pain is inevitable. So feel it. Fully. Thoroughly. Exhaustively. Allow yourself to experience every little detail of the hurt you are experiencing. Physically, mentally and spiritually. Wring your emotions dry.

Purge. Cleanse. Release. Repeat.

There is no escaping pain. You can run but you cannot hide. It affects us all sooner or later. Like death, it happens to everyone and everything. Guaranteed. But unlike death, it doesn’t just happen once. And then boom. Lights out. Pain recurs. Also guaranteed.

But what isn’t guaranteed is your perspective. The way you think, feel, react, respond and behave when you’re suffering and in your darkest hour. You may not be able to control when something hurtful is going to come your way or cross your path. But you can control what you do when it does.

This isn’t easy. Your first impulse may be avoidance. Or denial. Or retreat. You may want to run like hell away from the source of your torment, if you can. Or pull the covers over your head. Bury it in the sand. Lock yourself away. Hold a pity party. Lash out. Make accusations. Lay blame. Threaten to harm yourself. Crush your psyche. Curse at your body or mind. Condemn their betrayal. Give up.

Do these things if you must. And there will be times when you need to do all or some of these things. Recovery, getting rid of the bad shit that happens, is a process. And it takes time to heal wounds. Whether it’s a broken arm or a broken heart. A sore knee or a sore spirit. An injured back or an injured mind.

But know Girl Warrior that eventually you have to face it all. Have a showdown with the pain. Feel it all. Surrender to it all. Accept that it is happening. Because the pain won’t leave you until you deal with it. One way or the other. Head-on works. So does a slow and gentle approach. Trust yourself. You actually already know what to do. The wisdom to guide you through this already abides within. Listen to your small quiet voice of truth. Know that all pain is temporary.

Girl Warrior, let this pain be one of your quintessential teachers. Learn. Grow. Forgive. Accept. Emerge. Move on.

69617_10151236328866266_1747284945_n (1)

479406_10150995155606568_1194891344_o (1)

13718624_10153573250716205_879620948119751059_n (1)

13816966_10154256034685120_2076823867_n (1)

13817211_10154932275420260_963132062_n (2)

13819686_10153611376156846_1703442207_n (1)

13820448_10154499045735832_1354648256_n (1)

13820752_10153568369755946_713682462_n (1)

13823660_10153611380731846_86170454_n (2)

Danielle E - pain photo (1)

DSCN2797 (1).jpg

DSCN1634 (1)

IMG_1761 (1)

IMG_2406

Photo on 2016-07-24 at 10.03 AM #2 (1)

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter. Be One of The Remarkable Ones.

13528673_10153548218956644_9146851418416525774_n (1)

Girl Warrior.

Be one of the Remarkable Ones

Take your place among

The Extraordinary

The Exceptional

The mind-blowing Phenoms

The beautiful Freaks

And breathtaking Weirdos.

 

Stand shoulder-to-shoulder

With the unflinching Renegades

The fearless Rebels

The Risk-takers

The Soul-shakers

The untamed She-Wolves

And lionhearted Sisters.

 

Hang out with the Influencers

Who rouse and motivate

The uplifting Inspirers

The gifted Brighteners

The morale Boosters

The clever Quick-witted

And wise Enlightened.

 

Storm fearlessly into the good night

With your Tribe of Ferocious Sisters

Bare your teeth and growl

Get gritty and wrench your gut

Speak your truth with a deafening roar

Refuse to let your voice be silenced

Because Girl Warrior,

You are one of the Remarkable Ones.

13532982_10153548219376644_8677268980217913316_n

13567254_10153548219336644_1795878251467184900_n

13592312_10153548218946644_8453614633617302870_n

13599785_10153548218931644_268843769040279056_n