Plot Twist: I’m The Glue
A theme has been running through my head since just before Thanksgiving, and it even showed up in some of my recent essays. The feeling of how things once were. The idea that once my mother, the glue of the family, passed, our family dynamic changed. I lost something in my life, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Instead, I invited victimhood and resentment to enter my thoughts. Yes, this dynamic duo is powerful, loud, and moved right in. They have a way of bringing out the worst in me. Given enough airtime, they can turn a quiet moment of grief into a full-blown internal TED Talk on how unfair everything is.
As the holiday season went on, and nothing old was knocking on the door, the longing grew louder by the day. I became determined to identify exactly what I was missing, as if clarity might magically appear, bringing all my answers with it. Wouldn’t that be nice?
So I went inward. The people I think I’m missing aren’t the same people they were six or seven years ago. Truthfully, I don’t know who they are now beyond the occasional smiling square on social media or the obligatory “happy birthday” text. My house of thirty years? No. I genuinely love my new home. The city? Absolutely not. Nice try, nostalgia.
Which leaves me with the lingering question that refuses to leave the room: what have I been yearning for all this time? What unnamed absence cracked the door just enough for grief, and her exhausting friends V and R to wander in, kick off their shoes, and make themselves comfortable?
And then, quietly, the answer arrived. What I was missing wasn’t a person or a place; it was a feeling. The feeling of creating something and offering it to others. Of gathering, giving, and contributing in a way that feels alive and connective.
For decades, I was the one who did that. I was the “glue.” The planner. The one sending the texts, setting the dates, arranging the chairs, and making sure everyone had a place to land. Somewhere along the way, I stopped doing what had always grounded me, and apparently, my nervous system noticed long before I did.
I found the feeling again on Christmas Eve, standing in my own home, hosting. Cooking, arranging, welcoming. Creating space. And there it was, that familiarity. Not the past itself, but its essence. The part that still belongs to me.
I noticed it in my own voice when I talked about the evening later, more energy, more ease. Excitement. Joy. Dare I say passion? It felt good to recognize that part of myself again.
The longing didn’t vanish, but it softened. What I was searching for hadn’t gone anywhere; it was just waiting in the wings for me to show up and set the damn table.
As always … Enjoy the Ride, and have a Happy, healthy, peaceful 2026!
Share this:
California Dreamin
I think all vacations are memorable for one reason or another, but I recently went on a vacation that I know will stay with me forever. I was catapulted out of my comfort zone. That’s a good thing, right?
Flying is not my favorite thing to do, nor is leaving my husband and fur babies behind, BUT, when you ask your daughter what she wants for her 30th birthday, she says, “A trip with you,” there is no other choice. That’s not exactly true, but in this case, it was.
My sister is staying in California for an extended period. She gave my daughter a round-trip ticket for her birthday, so you can figure out the rest. Go big or go home.
The anxiety of this impending trip was over the top, even for me. It was planned so quickly you wouldn’t think I had much time to think, but guess what? My mind enjoys working overtime, and my excuses became as lame as “I don’t have a suitcase.” Really?
The green lights to go and enjoy myself were everywhere I turned. My co-workers gifted me a tote bag with everything you can think of to travel, down to the ziplock bags needed for liquids. My husband took the week off to be with the furbabies. My friend Susannah shared daily Instagram messages that were obviously talking directly to me, and finally, Kohl’s had a massive sale on suitcases. The universe does not play around.
When I say I had anxiety, I mean I had full-blown panic attacks that frankly had nothing to do with flying or anything else. They were my body’s response to me leaving my comfort zone. It was a rough ride, that’s for sure.
I took the necessary steps to get something to calm my nerves for the flight, and seconds before putting it in my mouth, I heard two dings on my phone. One was a text from my husband saying, “Don’t take anything before the flight.” What?! And the other was one of those daily messages that read:
You’ve lost so much of yourself
over time, but who you are in
this current phase is more than
enough. Beautifully complete
after all the internal sacrifices
you’ve made deserving of
applause for all the battles you’ve
fought in silence but still
exuding softness through it all.
A certainty embellished my body at that moment, and I felt a wave of calm I’d never felt before. I did not take the medication. I just knew I was about to embark on something extraordinary. There is no formal explanation, just a knowing.
I feel energized in new places, and California did not disappoint. We walked for miles, met people who were unique beyond measure, ate fresh fruit and vegetables daily, enjoyed perfect weather conditions, witnessed the most beautiful beaches, landscapes, and skies I’ve ever seen, and learned that having certainty in a situation big or small will provide you with an extraordinary sense of peace. This defines memorable.
Know that whatever is happening, it is happening for you, not to you, and as always, Enjoy the Ride!
Santa Cruz, Carmel, and Monterey, California.
Share this:
The Show Must Go On
Just sitting here pondering about life. Concluding that, if nothing else, it’s engaging as we navigate through our individual and collective journeys. I say collective because we’re in this together. Who’s crossing your path today, and why?
Have you ever viewed life as a movie with yourself as both the writer and star? I have.
Of course, there will be significant co-stars. At the same time, God, the universe, creator, or whatever term you refer to as a higher power is trying to direct scenes that include, I don’t know, millions of extras and a storyline that changes daily. Spielberg gave it a hard no.
It all started when I began recognizing a pattern of who I was attracting onto my set. Yes, we’re sticking to the movie theme here. My awareness heightened when someone or something got under my skin. Ugh, what is it? Why are you so f@#$ing annoying?
The answer is simple and complicated. Oh, you thought it would be easy too?
Remember the millions of extras and those co-stars? Well, they play crucial roles in our stories, some more than others, but they’re all critical in their own way. It’s no accident they auditioned.
It doesn’t matter if it’s the disgruntled cashier, a family member, a boss, or someone in between. If they show up, I ask myself whether they’ve been cast as my mirror, a messenger, or a teacher. A memo from the director would be nice; just saying.
The other plot twist to remember is that everyone you encounter is also starring in their own movie. What could possibly go wrong? Without ever being in Hollywood, I think it’s safe to say things can go wry when too many stars are on the stage. Why? Well …
We’re all walking around the studio lot we call this world with unhealed wounds while our particular audiences sling salt at them daily, provoking us to choose between reacting or learning. It’s not a Hallmark movie out there, folks.
So far, I’ve realized that our movies do not include stunt people, which is sometimes unfortunate but necessary if we want that blockbuster; we have to feel the bumps along the way. They don’t call it growing pains for anything.
Another important lesson learned is improvising or using our free will during production makes it very difficult for the director to navigate the script. Ego is always trying to steal the show.
So, until we allow the spotlight to shine on us with certainty, the problematic scenes in our movie will play on a loop until we decide to heal or learn. It’s all about the light.
This perspective has allowed me to view my movie more transparently and ask the director for guidance; this has led me on a path to winning the Best Picture award.
Enjoy the Ride!
Share this:
Dust Covered Purpose
I’ve always been an avid walker, trust me, I have the hooves to prove it! I proudly inherited this from my mother; she set this example early on, pushing my sister and me in a stroller all over town. Walking was the alternative when your husband 
took the car to work. Yes, there was a time when not every member of the house had a car.
So, with gyms closed during the pandemic, I was grateful to have my feet to keep me on the move. Sadly they weren’t moving quite as fast as my jaw!
Now, here I am, four months later, and much fuller than I was in March. Between the stress, anxiety, and bulk shopping, I’m just glad I’m not ready to audition for My 600 Pound Life. Look for those bright spots people.
My gym did open a week ago, but I’m not so sure I want to be in a closed box filled with sweat, or frying out on the blacktop parking lot for a workout just yet. So, what’s a girl to do? She got her creative juices flowing and found herself a used treadmill. Facebook Marketplace has some gems.
Ok, we’ve all been in the position where our intentions far outweigh our ambitions, I know I have. We buy ourselves home exercise equipment, and before long, they’re doubling as a coat hanger. Well, remember this, there is always someone ready to purchase that used like BRAND SPANKING NEW coat hanger for 149 dollars! One person’s exercise/coat hanger is another’s treasure.
At first, I thought 149 dollars, why not round it up? Weird, but ok. I dug a little deeper, zoomed in on the photos, and couldn’t get past the low price for this beauty. Hmm, does it work? What’s the catch? My inner Nancy Drew always surfaces, and she can’t help herself.
Well, after Nancy conducted a brief investigation, it turned out that the owner is downsizing from her MANSION, purchased the treadmill to keep active, and will not need it at her new home. Her headband probably cost more than what I paid for this treadmill.
SOLD! I Google the address and found out my purchase currently resides in a home that just sold for 1 MILLION DOLLARS. It was living in a room designated for treadmills for god sakes! I started to feel bad for an inanimate object.
I had to share this information with my sister. First, because she’ll see the humor of the situation, and secondly, I know she’ll have a comeback that will bring it home, so I shot her a text. “My treadmill is living on the Kardashian’s set, and is heading straight to Roseanne’s set!” Well, she didn’t disappoint with her response of “I bet your house will be a lot more fun!” Truth!
That statement got my wheels turning. Suddenly I’m thinking about PURPOSE. How the hell did I go from a dust collecting treadmill to living my purpose? All I know is I was walking my dogs, and it popped in my head. The universe has its way of making shit happen.
Ok here goes. My initial judgment about the treadmill was that it was somehow living better because it had a room in a million-dollar home, but it collected dust in reality. Talk about an Aha moment.
Is that what I’m doing? Am I collecting dust with my time here on earth? In the end the choice is ultimatley mine. So, what’s it gonna be? Am I going to be the french fry or the badass mf’ing seagull? Deep stuff.
No matter what you choose, always make sure you … Enjoy the Ride!
Life With The Top Down 
You must be logged in to post a comment.