Water = peace

Over the past week, I've lived a bit of a gypsy existence. With work and obligations pulling me northward, I have bunked mostly at my friend Amber's house in Lake Geneva, WI. It's closer to my office than home actually is, and with a work event in that area, too, it just made sense to stay, take a vacation day, and chill.

Chill. What a great word. With all the driving that tends to occur in my world, the act of allowing oneself to chill is underrated.

Nothing brings out my inner chill more than water, and I had it in abundance these last few days. From a work retreat on Lake Delavan to a triathlon at 63rd St. Beach in Chicago to hours laying on or paddleboarding in Geneva Lake or Lake Como, I've been a water baby for sure, and I am so grateful for the experience.

I packed a full suitcase; I only needed a few swimsuits. And the more time I sat, letting the water rush to meet the sand again and again and again, the more I felt at home within myself.

The more I was at home within myself.

I've long said that if I'm crabby, put me in water. Run me a bath or toss me into a river, and I come back to me. So after days of these sorts of activity, I've returned to my regular schedule renewed, relaxed and ready. (Which is a good thing, because August just might kick my ass.)

So here I sit, on a rainy Sunday night, once again surrounded by water. From the balcony at Amber and Miah's house, the world is getting a little wash. The weekend is melting away, and I emerge on the other side, the same but different.

On the intersection between love and superpowers

I've been told that I love big. Instantly and fully, I love big. Where some love the normal amount, on a scale from 1 to 10, I love at 11.

Love is my superpower.

It isn't always easy, and sometimes it means I get hurt. Not romantic hurt, although I've had my share of that. But most of the time, it's the everyday real love that has the potential to punch a hole (heh heh ... "a-hole" ...) in my heart. And I think I've finally figured out how to deal.

I just need to remember that it isn't all about me.

I'm not a "classic" narcissist, but sometimes I allow things that have nothing to do with me effect me far too seriously. It's not just unnecessary; it's potentially dangerous. So I'm gonna do some work there.

I crave - and I think we all crave - love the way I do it. I want people to love me as I am, hugely. I want the same consideration I show others shown to me. The same thoughtfulness. And you know what? Sometimes I get it.

But a lot of the times, it's not on my terms. Not from the people I want, when I want it.

Love isn't like that. And the way people love me is about me, yes. But it's also about them.

I can either accept that, or I can be the walking wounded. I think I'll choose the former.

I can love instantly, fully and big. I can keep giving from my heart and soul; in fact, I'm not sure I could stop if I wanted to. And I can be grateful for those who return that love in kind. Those who don't ... I'm going to make it okay. Truth is, those who don't, probably can't. Not everybody is capable of love at this level. It's part of what makes me unique and awesome and gorgeous. Anybody who tells me otherwise is trying to sell me something.

And I ain't buyin'.