Tag Archives: tired

Take Care Of Your Energy

Over the years it seems as if i’ve grown tired and sicker, and it has seemed no matter what I do. I’d eat healthier, and exercise, and listen and take any and all the advice I could get my hands on and I’d either feel the same or some times worse. I was taking care of my physical body, but completely neglecting my energetic/ spiritual body.  We are all Energy- Spiritual beings having a human experience. At the end of all of our stories our physical bodies will be gone, Yet we focus so much on priming out physical all while ignoring the invisible true core of self.

More recently I had my first reiki session. I was sceptical, but intrigued. I was also out of options. I have tried everything and I have been on a steady health decline. I booked an hour session, In the hours leading up to my session I had the worst flair I have ever experienced. Pain through my neck and shoulders and a fog that just wouldn’t go away.

During my session I felt my pain melting away, And I felt fuzzy all over like someone had wrapped me in a fuzzy blanket. After I felt light- mentally, emotionally and physically. My pain was gone, and I was so alert that I went for a drive for fun.

I am sharing this experience so that anyone who was like me who has been struggling, never give up. I highly recommend Reiki for many, many reasons after feeling the difference. I am by no means saying it will cure or treat any medical condition, but it is worth looking into to heal our energy.

I am blessed and grateful to be able to write for all of you!

Always be unapologetically true to yourself-

Ali

Relentless And Thirty-One

Thirty was brutal.

It was brutally honest and unapologetically raw. It was a beautiful mess with parts I would not wish on my least favorite of human spirits.

Thirty was the year of sorry’s, and sighs, and throwing my hands to the skies. Thirty was the year of aging mentally and physically. Thirty was the year of allowing myself to be lost and not wanting to be found by anyone but me.

Thirty was letting go and a series of hard choices–the kind of decisions that prove your character. The kind that ache, bleed, and scar. It was self discovery and starting new.

It was hitting reset, rinse, repeat.

Thirty was the year of unrelenting chaos, followed by uncomfortable calm.

Reset, rinse, repeat.

Thirty was wanting to run away and never come back. Thirty was wanting to disappear. Thirty was wanting to be seen. Thirty was wanting to be held. Thirty was the paradox.

I looked around the house and just wanted to burn it down more than once. I looked up airline tickets for three out of the country more than twice. I second guessed my decision to leave my marriage…zero times.

I redecorated. I made new recipes. I cooked a lot of food. I lost ten pounds. I gained ten pounds. I gave zero f&*cks. I grew out my hair. I bought $40 foundation for the first time ever. I painted my first and last room. I told some of my best jokes. I did some of my best writing. I had some of my worst parenting moments. I had some of my lowest lifetime moments. Thirty was angry, and it was sad. It was a 24/7 adrenaline rush and it was exhausting. Thirty was adult dating, and school girl blushing. Thirty was laughing like I hadn’t in years, even when it was at my own life or expense. Thirty was saying hard truths out loud. Thirty was letting myself grieve things I’d been missing. Thirty was accepting good things when they presented themselves and not feeling guilty about it.

It was letting go of things I had already long lost. It was closing doors to rooms in my heart that made me cold and sad. It was opening windows to trust new faces and unfamiliar spaces within my new life.

It was a year of allowing myself to cry at green, yellow, and red lights. In conference rooms, in the shower, at daycare, at the doctor’s office, at the dinner table of friend’s and in the doorways of their homes without warning.

I left a dozen chapters of my life behind, and in my husband’s hands, hours before someone else’s wedding. I forced myself to spit out razor blades of truth at the person I said ‘forever’ to. My head had to forcefully tell my heart to leave my husband and be completely unwavering in that choice.

It was the year of asking for help and of saying ‘yes.’ It was a the year of the king size bed, an ironic choice for a person with one less body next to them. The year not for the bucket list, but the f*%ck-it list.

Thirty was love at its most genuine, whether it was for me or from me. It was finding out who really is in my corner and who deserves to be put in one.

Thirty was dancing in the rain, crying in the rain, jumping puddles in the rain, kissing in the rain. I made the most of it, but thirty is what made me. Thirty taught me to spit in fear’s face, to say goodbye to people and things that don’t add, but detract, from my life.

Thirty gave me a glimpse into what I am really made of.

I am braver and stronger than I thought. I am more loved than I realized. I am capable of much more than I gave myself credit for.

The year turning over only proudly reinforces two things: this is my circus and these are my monkeys.

This is relentless and thirty-one.

~Jessica-Awesome Single Mama