This year, I wanted Christmas to be different. I wanted to take charge of myself and my responses in the face of my usual holiday triggers, like feelings of separateness from a lack of strong social circles and family bonding. I didn’t want to mask these feelings of separateness with casual alcohol. I wanted to step beyond my self-worth issues centered around my financial contributions, or how much I could mentally, emotionally, and physically participate in. And of course, to move beyond the crippling holiday sensory overload I experience every year.

But I know that to live in change one must be willing to begin the change. So, I started where I could: my relationship with social drinking. The second I began getting uncomfortable around others was the second I removed alcohol from my equation. Even though I’m a casual drinker at best when I do drink it’s to cope in social situations, which essentially means I drink to protect myself from being uncomfortable. And if I’m not uncomfortable in the situations that challenge me, then I’m not giving myself the opportunity to meet those challenges in a good way.

I also told myself I loved me a lot. Today was particularly hard because I had unintentionally (and irresponsibly) hurt my eldest’s feelings. I reminded myself that being accountable for my mistake is an act of integrity I can be proud of. And that offering a genuine, heartfelt apology through words and action, coupled with an open will to do better next time is enough to earn my own forgiveness and trust back in me.

The New Moon Eclipse hits this hemisphere tomorrow. I’m using this time to not only conceptualize what I want for my life this next decade but also to honor all that I’ve learned along the way. I hope your dreams take good care of you too. ~ Jamie

Tree Rings

They are silent scars,
tree rings,
simple markers of time
that ignores
the story between the lines,
the seasons of starvation,
the winters that lingered,
the days of summer,
of wine and dance,
the wild mistakes and the wilder joys,
the droughts and soft nights of love,
all of them lost in the lines,
each so similar to the next,
markers of age, so easily seen by others,
who cannot know your story in all it’s richness
unless you have the courage to leave the lines behind,
tell your own tale like the bards of old, creating a truth more true than honesty,
more true than markers or memories
or the lies of time.

~Tom Akers