Category Archives: Health

The Reset Button

I spent most of February and March worried about breast cancer. It felt as if I had fallen down a rabbit hole and couldn’t get my bearing for the last six weeks. It turns out that what I thought was good news after my repeat mammogram, was really only the beginning of a longer, drawn out saga.

After two mammograms and two MRIs, one with a biopsy, I finally received the all clear. But during that time I was lost in limbo land. Did I or didn’t I have breast cancer? What was showing up on the tests? And why do they need to do a biopsy in the MRI machine? It is bad enough to have 12 core samples removed from my (now black and blue) breast, but in and out of a closed MRI to a claustrophobic person adds insult to injury.

Instead of focusing on the roller coaster of fear, I am embracing the sweet relief a benign diagnosis brought to me, my family and my friends. The ‘all clear’ diagnosis is a reset button for how I want to live my life. Frankly anyone one of us is each just one diagnosis away from all sorts of medical disasters. We can’t control the length of our lives, but we have some control over how we spend it.

This is a lesson I keep learning over and over again. It was mine for a while after I survived cancer in my mid 20’s. I learned it again when my husband had cancer 19 years ago (this month!). And I learned again a 1 ½ years ago from my accident, from which I am still recovering. None of this makes me unique. Many friends and loved ones have had their own medical/life-death adventures. We are all learning similar life lessons, gained from the heartbreak and pain of loss and recovery.

For whatever time left to me — hopefully many more decades — I want my life to be of my making, on my own terms. I want to spend my time doing things that light up my life, bring a smile to my face and makes my heart soar.

I dodged a bullet this time, but I know that next time I might not be so lucky. This time I came to a place of acceptance. If life is short or long, I want to laugh too loud, take up lots of space, make more mistakes, apologize with an open heart and love fiercely. Bottom line is that I have had a great life, with many, many things and people to which and to whom I am most grateful!

So in honor of my recent healthy diagnosis and the 32nd anniversary of being free of cancer, I publicly renew my commitment to spending time doing the activities that I find fulfilling with friends and family who share laughter and joy and love while living.

Who’s with me?


As a blogger, I enjoy sharing my ideas and thoughts with people, and I get a special thrill when someone leaves a comment. When you share my posts on social media sites, I jump up and down doing a happy dance. So thank you!

Repeat Mammograms Suck

After getting a mammogram last week, I learned that I needed to have a repeat one done. These are not words that any woman wants to hear, much less one who is a cancer survivor. Once you have heard the dreaded cancer diagnosis, everything feels like borrowed time—even those of us who are 30+ years out.

For the last four or five days, every time I started to think about it I found myself sucking in air, but never fully exhaling. I’m proud that I didn’t obsess – an old pattern of mine for many years. Basically I gave myself permission to think about it and then let it go. Meditating and mind discipline (another word for yoga!) is finally working for me.

Cancer screening is not fun or pleasant; it can involve moments or days or weeks waiting for results. Since my cancer was malignant melanoma in 1985, screening for me also means a full body check by a dermatologist. I don’t like going, but I sure like knowing. Head in the sand is not an acceptable option.

Some of my random thoughts as I was waiting to get in for my repeat mammogram were:

I thought about how my breasts fed and nourished my kids and how breastfeeding was an important tool in my mothering tool box for many, many years (yes, I was that kind of mother ;-).

I thought about the odds and how both my mother and maternal aunt had post-menopausal breast cancer. They say that 1 in 8 women will get breast cancer in their lifetime. I remember sitting on an all-woman Board of Directors for an international non-profit with 15+ other women and speculating that at least 2 of us might get breast cancer. These past several days I wondered if it was going to be me.

The good news is that all is fine and the problem was a technical one with the mammogram and not at all with me. But I write this post to remind everyone reading it to get screened. Cancer happens. For years after my cancer in the mid 1980’s I stopped getting cancer checks. I was young and I didn’t want to deal with it. After my first child was born, I finally grew up and realized that this is a part of life.

So while I am doing a happy dance after getting the good news today, I know that I might be in for another round next month when I go in for my skin cancer body check. Odds are that they will want to biopsy something (they usually do) and I will get to spend another few days waiting and wondering. Such is life.


As a blogger, I enjoy sharing my ideas and thoughts with people, and I get a special thrill when someone leaves a comment. When you share my posts on social media sites, I jump up and down doing a happy dance. So thank you!

Unexpected Gifts

Heidi Sloss Ankle InjuryFor the past 25+ years I have been dealing with ankle injuries, surgeries and recoveries. During that time I have spent countless hours trying to figure out why. For years I felt responsible for creating the drama and trauma that came with my ankle adventures. It felt as if the pain was some sort of punishment for something. But at this point in my life I have finally come to see my ankle adventures as less of a punishment and more of a gift. First some background.

The original injury happened in 1989, when I broke my left ankle and damaged the tendons and ligaments. At the time I was young, strong and unaware. That afternoon, instead of going to an ER, I hobbled onto a plane to meet my husband in NYC, where we were attending a sit-down dinner with the Dalai Lama that I refused to miss. It was incredibly romantic – my husband carrying me up the stairs of the Columbia Library in our black tie attire – and pretty short sighted. Because the choices I made then have had repercussions we have dealt with for the past 25+ years.

I ignored medical advice at the time to have surgery and got pregnant instead. In case you didn’t know, during pregnancy ligaments loosen, which is great for giving birth, but not so much for recovering from an injury. Five years later, November 11, 1994, I had the recommended surgery to deal with the damage from the injury and pregnancy.

The recovery from that surgery was difficult; I had an active four year old son and my husband was in law school full time. Naively I thought I could manage on my own, but in reality it was a struggle. I remember one afternoon eating my lunch on the kitchen floor because I couldn’t figure out how to get the food from the kitchen counter to a table while using crutches. I didn’t want to be a burden on my friends. Coincidentally our daughter was born exactly a year after my surgery on November 11, 1995.

10 years later, In November 2004, I needed surgery again. This time the kids were able to help and I accepted some limited help from friends. Even so, I felt guilty for being a burden and spent hours trying to figure out why my ankle kept giving out on me. I kept thinking that if I could just figure it out, once and for all, then we/I would be done with it.

However, life has a funny way of unfolding. Last November — yes exactly 10 year later — I had another bad fall and broke the same ankle in 3 places. But this time I accepted lots of help. My daughter came home from school, my father came from the east coast, I asked friends to come in and cover when they were gone and then my husband cleared his schedule to take care of me. What a difference this has made to how I feel about the whole experience. Fact is that this was a much more serious injury, complicated surgery and a harder recovery. But instead of feeling punished and overanalyzing “why,” I finally allowed myself to feel vulnerable and consequently loved.

Recovering from each surgery has been hard on me and my family. I felt guilty for putting them through it and responsible for the trauma and drama. Classic “blame the victim” mentality—although I was the one blaming myself. And while it felt like punishment, it wasn’t. It is just life and it happens to each of us. Figuring this out is liberating.

Some of the many gifts I have received this time around include patience, acceptance, vulnerability and love. While the surgery fixed it so that I could walk again, there is some damage that could not be repaired. This is why I still have days of pain. I now see that accepting the situation is not being a victim, but rather embracing what showed up in my life: good friends who want to help, loving family members who are there for me and a slower, more vulnerable me.



As a blogger, I enjoy sharing my ideas and thoughts with people, and I get a special thrill when someone leaves a comment. When you share my posts on social media sites, I jump up and down doing a happy dance. So thank you!

Buying a Bathing Suit Used to Suck!

 Buying a bathing suit use to a suck. It was a miserable, unpleasant experience that always left me selecting one that I hated the least. That all changed when I lost 55 lbs in 2011. It still isn’t as pleasurable as buying a new purse, but it is no longer traumatic. When I lost the weight, I didn’t do it to make bathing suit shopping easier. I did it because I didn’t want to end up in a hospital bed, weighed down by fat and medical problems stemming from being overweight, as my beloved aunt was that year.

Four years later my weight is still gone and I feel great but I am still getting used to my new body and what that means. Frankly I never believed it possible to lose that much weight, much less maintain it. I am embarrassed to admit that one of my apprehensions about our wonderful Australian sabbatical was that I would gain weight; to my amazement I actually lost weight while we were overseas. And one of my first thoughts after waking up from my three hour ankle surgery last November was concern about gaining weight. After a lifetime of dealing with food and weight issues, it takes time to retrain my mind.

One big adjustment has been buying a bathing suit. For years buying a new suit sucked. It was stressful because I never looked the way I wanted to. I never shopped for a suit in a store, preferring to try on suits in the privacy of my own home. I envied women who could walk in to a store and walk out with a bathing suit.

So you can imagine my panic when I found myself needing to buy a bathing suit on my way up to Tahoe for a long weekend with my son two years ago. We were heading up to spend some time together while my husband and daughter were traveling in Europe for her school’s choir trip. The house my son rented had a hot tub and by the time I realized I didn’t have a suit, we were too far away from home to turn back. As we approached Davis, CA I looked online and didn’t see any department stores listed, only a Target. I approached the store with a lot of stress and a pinch of panic thrown in for extra measure. You see while my new body walked in, it was attached to my old mind.

Within a few minutes of looking, I found a great looking suit, and lo and behold it fit—right off the rack! If you have ever been overweight, you can appreciate the flood of joy and relief I felt at that moment, standing in a Target dressing room, looking at myself in the mirror and loving what I saw. I wanted to run around the store, jumping for joy, but I knew my son was waiting in the car. So I paid for my new suit (and cute cover-up, because you know!) and strolled nonchalantly back to the car, as if nothing huge had happened.

But something huge did happen. I walked into the store with my old body image in my mind, but I walked out a new woman—one who can shop for bathing suits at Target! Now when traveling I no longer stress about packing pants or bathing suits (both of which used to be hard for me to find). I now travel lighter, figuratively and literally.

As a blogger, I enjoy sharing my ideas and thoughts with people, and I get a special thrill when someone leaves a comment. When you share my posts on social media sites, I jump up and down doing a happy dance. So thank you!

The Land of Disability

Last November, after my horrible fall and subsequent surgery, I spent 9 ½ weeks in a wheelchair, visiting a place that no one ever wants to go to: the land of disability.


While I am not completely healed, I am back amoungst the able-bodied and I want to tell you a little bit about navigating in that other land.

Years ago, after my first (of three) ankle surgeries I spent six weeks on crutches, non-weight bearing on my injured ankle. It was tough on me and my family. I remember one awful day eating my lunch on the floor when I was alone as I could not get it from the kitchen to the table. After subsequent surgeries, I got a wheelchair and that made a huge different. But even in a wheelchair, life is very hard.

First of all, even places that say they are handicapped accessible often are not. I will never forget getting stuck in a restaurant bathroom that had a wheelchair accessible stall, but no automatic door opener. I couldn’t get out of the bathroom on my own, thank goodness my friend figured out something was wrong and rescued me from the ladies room. 

Without an automatic door opener, most in wheelchairs are stuck getting in or out of the bathroom. Can you imagine having to ask for help every time you need to go to the bathroom? Well that is what it is like for anyone in a wheelchair trying to access a bathroom that does not have an automatic door opener. How we define accessible matters.

Second of all, there are all sorts of great tools these days that can help those in wheelchairs, whether for a short time or for life. But knowing what they are and where to find them can be tricky.

Think about carrying things from one room to another, while in a wheelchair; it is not easy—you need your hands to move the wheels. Having a cup holder on the chair makes a big difference. And so does a Non-Slip Board & Drink Holder—the best tool I used!

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This amazing tool fit on my lap and allowed me to carry drinks, food, even my laptop around my house without spilling or dropping! AI no longer had to wait for someone else to help me to get something to eat or just take a cup of coffee from kitchen to family room. The handy dandy Grip Drink Holder (pictured above on the yellow Non-Slip Board) also helped.

Grip Gloves also helped as I wheeled myself around. As did a Safety Vest—which is great for anyone who spends time walking or biking along roads without sidewalks or adequate street lighting. I gave one to my husband who bikes to and from work.

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Fact is it is not easy to live in the land of disability. But with some helpful tools, it can be a little easier to maneuver around.

All of these handy items (pictured and described above) were provided to me by See and Be Safe, a wonderful online resource of products that assists the disabled as well as the able bodied. They design and manufacture high visibility accessories used by anyone in a wheelchair or who just wants to be seen on dark roadways. I think their visibility accessories make great gifts for the bikers in your family. Additionally, they sell grip products that help balance electronics and food on a non slip surface, making it so easy to move things around. If I sound like an infomercial, it is because I think this company provides a real service for everyone with their important products.

Bottom line is that I hope you never have to visit the land of disability, even temporarily, but the truth is that many of us might have to go there at some point, even if just for a short while. And if you do, knowing what helpful items exist will make a difference.

Full disclosure: I was not paid for writing this piece, but I was given these items to use when I was in my wheelchair. My husband and I are still using the Non-Slip Board and the Safety Vest. All opinions on the products are mine and mine alone.

As a blogger, I enjoy sharing my ideas and thoughts with people, and I get a special thrill when someone leaves a comment. When you share my posts on social media sites, I jump up and down doing a happy dance. So thank you!

Someday is Today

Last fall, long before we sold our home, and I started renovating a new home, I made plans to go east to see my mother. I haven’t written much about my mother because it is complicated—what mother/daughter relationship isn’t? For years, we each wanted to get along better but we never managed to do so. Then in May 2013 she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and everything changed.

Alzheimer’s is a sad disease. I have nothing new or profound to add to the heartache that this cruel wasting away of a brilliant mind means. But I can add that much to my surprise, my life has changed in some ways for the better since her diagnosis.

First of all, every child of an Alzheimer’s patient worries about getting it themselves. And odds are that many of us will. This is not a pleasant outlook, but it forced me to make some decisions about what I do and do not want for the rest of my life—with or without Alzheimer’s. Within a week of her diagnosis, I found myself back on a yoga mat, after having been absent for many years. It was always one of those things that I thought would be back in my life someday. My mother’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis made “my someday” happen today.

Second, for some strange reason, our relationship started to improve dramatically. Over the years, we have both wanted a different relationship with each other, but neither of us managed to make it happen. We were both disappointed and had resolved to accept the relationship for what it was and was not, but deep in our hearts we both wanted more: more connection, more understanding, more loving. And now we have it.

She is suffering from Alzheimer’s; this is not a subtle disease. But she is still there and while visiting her last week we had some beautiful heart-to-heart connections. Alzheimer’s may have robbed her ability to remember words and where her glasses are and even large batches of information about her life, but it hasn’t affected her ability to open up her heart. Over coffee, we both talked about how much we are now enjoying our current relationship after decades of yearning for more from each other. Ironically we both think that the other has changed while the reality is that we both have. And this has allowed us each to open up our hearts to each other.

Alzheimer’s may be taking away all the details of her life, but it has left her heart intact. The bottom line is that she can still send and receive love and really what more is there?

Here are some photos of me with my mother, my brother and my mother’s husband on my recent visit east. She doesn’t like her photo taken and I know she would not like the way she looks in the photos, but they capture a loving moment of us together that I will remember.

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As a blogger, I enjoy sharing my ideas and thoughts with people, and I get a special thrill when someone leaves a comment. When you share my posts on social media sites, I jump up and down doing a happy dance. So thank you!

Excuses I tell Myself

Writing takes discipline and over time it becomes a habit. However, I have lost the habit. Last year I was in a groove while we traveled through OZ. Beyond writing and traveling, I had very few responsibilities and spent most of my time reveling in that. Yes, I cooked, I shopped, I worked out and I paid bills, but writing was built into my day. Since my injury last November, attempting to write while just sitting at a desk, with my feet on the floor – it has been terribly difficult. Sitting or spending too much time on my feet means swelling and pain – both which just get worse the longer I do either.  With limited time to be active or seated, I wanted to use it to walk around, go places, drive somewhere, take a yoga class, etc. So I allowed myself to get out of the habit of writing daily. But this was really just an excuse.

When I was a marketing consultant, I used to tell clients that it takes 3 weeks to make or break a habit. I know this from personal experience. This was how I quit smoking in 1984, how I finally lost 55 lbs. back in 2010-11 and how I reclaimed yoga in my life 2 years ago: one day at a time.

I made the decision to quit smoking and to stop overeating so as to welcome what I wanted in my life on a daily basis – I chose to create the habit every single day. This is how I mother myself. It isn’t always easy. It takes discipline. On days when I don’t feel like writing or eating healthy or working out, I take a moment to remind myself to look at the big picture and it smooths the way just enough for me to get my butt in gear and to move forward.

My latest excuse, on top of my foot pain, is our new adventure: we are moving from our suburban home to one in the city. For the past two weeks, I have been packing up, throwing out unwanted things and getting our current home ready for market (this link will take you to an electronic flyer for our listing). I have been telling myself that all my standing time needs to be spent sorting through our things, thinning out what is in our home and then storing what we want to keep. But this is just another excuse I tell myself.

The excuses I used to tell myself when I was fat and wanted to eat something that wasn’t good for me was that I had had a hard day (or night or week or month) and that I deserved being able to eat that muffin or drink that mocha or have a 2nd or 3rd helping. Or how unfair it was that my friends could eat [fill in the blank] and still look great, why shouldn’t I? But when I turned 50, and I started thinking of my life at 80, I realized how lame those excuses were. I started to accept who I am and what my body needs. So the reality is that while working on getting our home ready for sale has been hard work, it hasn’t really prevented me from writing. I prevented me from my writing.

Don’t get me wrong, I have been writing up a storm in my head. There have been posts about moving, about decorating, about empty nests, about Alzheimer’s, about loving and forgiveness and about healing. But that isn’t what I want. My hope is to be able to create short blog posts that touch other people in ways that motivate them to share my posts and/or post comments about the pieces. Having beautifully written pieces in my head won’t get it done. And they don’t mother me. Actual writing does.

So while I still have many distractions and way too many excuses, I will find a way to post more regularly. And hopefully those of you reading my posts will want to engage enough to share your thoughts and your comments.

As a blogger, I enjoy sharing my ideas and thoughts with people, and I get a special thrill when someone leaves a comment. When you share my posts on social media sites, I jump up and down doing a happy dance. So thank you!

Confessions of a Worrywart: Or How I almost missed Christmas this Year

I used to worry a lot about all sorts of things and, in fact, have done so all my life. I suppose you might diagnose me with a disorder, but I am not sure where the line is between just worrying and real anxiety. When I was young, I worried about becoming an adult; when I was an adult I worried about finding love (which I did!) and having children (which I did) and becoming successful (still working on this one). When I was fat I worried about becoming thin and then now that I am thin and healthy (yay!) I sometimes worry about becoming fat again.

Before our Australian adventure, I worried about renting out our home, I worried about packing up our valuables; I worried about being so far from the kids in a foreign land. While there I worried traveling. I worried about our parents back stateside. When my laptop crashed and died on our trip to  Tasmania, I worried about recovering my data.

When I started my blog, I worried about finding an audience. [Full disclosure: I still worry about this one.] I worry about being articulate, finding interesting enough subjects to write about, and I worry about getting my thoughts and inspirations down on paper. And I worry about being as open and vulnerable on paper as I am in my heart.

And then last fall I fell and broke my leg and ankle. This meant that for Christmas I would be in a wheelchair, unable to “mother” my family through our holiday traditions, such as they are. To top it off, this past Christmas was the first one we were celebrating with my son’s girlfriend, so I wanted it extra special as we welcomed her into our chaos family.

But my accident changed all that.

I was unable to organize and orchestrate our holidays as I had before. I certainly was not up to our annual trip to the mountains to chop down a tree. Actually if truth be told, our normal Christmas tradition is to go to a tree farm and argue about which tree we will chop down. If you note in the photos below from Christmas 2013, my husband and son are each kneeling at different trees, showing off their different tree preference. (The photo of the kids together with the final choice just gives me pleasure.)

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For Xmas 2014, plans had been made, and dates carefully negotiated to find a day during which all five of us where available to get and decorate a tree. And then my father decided to join us and suddenly there were many moving pieces to plan and organize and feed. I was both excited and worried.

For days I worried about everyone showing up—there were trips from the east coast involved for my daughter and father. Then I worried about what to feed everyone. I made plans in my mind and then changed them back and forth, back and forth. I worried about the house looking great, and I worried about it being clean. I didn’t realize it, but all my worrying had become a prison. It was keeping me from being excited about getting to spend the day with some of my favorite people in the world.

When my son and his girlfriend arrived, they burst into my bedroom, grabbed my comforter off to look at my injured leg/ankle. In that moment, I had two choices. I could freak out for being seen in bed, in my nightgown, with my ankle all purple and swollen (and gross) OR I could take a deep breath, relax and allow their love and attention to override my need to present myself as put together.

And it was at the minute that I burst out of my worrywart prison. I took that deep breath and it hit me; all my worrying was ridiculous. Here I was, about to spend the day with my family, and I was thinking about what to feed them. In my worrywart prison, I was miserable and small and contained. My worrying meant I was missing out on experiencing the joy of being with my loved ones.

The day turned out great. We had fun, and yes, it was overwhelming and exhausting. But more importantly I saw the error of my ways. Since then, as life’s adventures come up and my worrywart monster starts to rear its ugly head, I have been taking deep breaths, reminding myself that I want to break free from my prison of worry and perfection.

As a blogger, I enjoy sharing my ideas and thoughts with people, and I get a special thrill when someone leaves a comment. When you share my posts on social media sites, I jump up and down doing a happy dance. So thank you!

I Make Bone, What’s Your Superpower?

When I first fell and injured my leg/ankle 7+ weeks ago, I assumed that my life would remain the same albeit not being able to walk for a few months.

I pictured myself sitting at my laptop writing blog post after blog post during my recuperation. I have several folders, as well as scraps of paper, containing scribbled ideas for all sorts of posts. Posts on mothering young children, posts on mothering growing children, posts on mothering teens, and posts on empty nesting. Additionally I have notes on being a daughter as well as notes about being a woman in today’s world. In fact, in my post Holiday Calamity: The Good, the Bad and the Just Plain Weird there were comments from readers consoling me that I could use my recovery time to write. And in The Road to Recovery I wrote about how productive I had been, showing that I wasn’t just sitting around. But the fact of the matter is that I am just sitting around.

And I am mostly sitting around on my couch and not at my writing desk. While my laptop can move to the couch, my energy levels are just not thinking and writing and editing and editing and editing.

I am a productive person. I don’t like just sitting around. I love being active: walking, hiking, yoga. But at this point, some days I barely have enough energy to get dressed and sit up. Now I did have a bad break and a serious injury that required a three hour surgery. And in addition they discovered I am anemic. But I never imagined that I would be so wiped out. And then I recently learned why.

It takes a lot of energy to grow bones! And that is what I am doing. So while it may look like I am just sitting, and it may feel like I am just sitting, the fact is my body is hard at work repairing and growing my bones.

When I think back to my kids, who seemed to go through phases when they were bumps on a log, I now realize that they were exhausted because they were growing bones! And I am exhausted from growing new bones. Sure I now have a metal plate, with pins and screws in my leg, holding pieces together, but the fact is my body is spending a tremendous amount of energy to grow new bones. And this is why I am tired a lot right now. This is also why I have not been able to write more, even though I want to.

How we mother our children, our friends and ourselves matter. And this is what my blog is about. And right now I am mothering myself by not giving myself a hard time for not using these 7 weeks to write more. I am being way more productive by sitting on my couch, stitching or reading or calling a friend because my body is hard at work growing bone. In fact I am thinking of getting a t-shirt that reads:

I Make Bone, What’s Your Superpower?

What do you think?

As a blogger, I enjoy sharing my ideas and thoughts with people, and I get a special thrill when someone leaves a comment. When you share my posts on social media sites, I jump up and down doing a happy dance. So thank you!

Sabbatical Time = Think Time

As some of you know, earlier this year my husband and I were able to spend 5 months living and traveling around Australia. It was fantastic – truly a trip of a lifetime. I got to visit places and see things and meet people that I could have never imagined. We had a great time.

One of the best parts of all our time in Australia was the ability to take a break from our regular lives and our normal routines and be in a totally new environment. Of course, we used this time to travel and explore Australia, New Zealand. I even got to spend a day in Fiji (must get back there someday and really explore!). But more than the travel, being away for so long gave me the gift of time to think, to daydream, to meditate and to clear the clutter in my head. It felt freeing.

I view our time there as my “think time.” It allowed my thoughts to wonder, it allowed me to think longer and without interruptions or distractions. I admit I resisted the trip in the beginning. There was a tremendous amount of work to be done prior to leaving: rent out our home to strangers, find a place for our cats and then pack what we would need while away.

Once there it felt magical being away.  There was no pressure to see places and do things in a hurry. We had plenty of time. We made plans and then changed them on a dime, just because we could and were not in a rush.

While in Melbourne, our home base, I was able to explore the city as well as my inner thoughts and feelings—this was a true gift of our sabbatical time. I got to think about my early childhood, analyzed patterns in my relationships, thought about my adolescence, as well as my early adult life.  We also celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary there and so I spent time thinking about my life as a wife and as mother. As it so happens, we timed our trip to Australia as our youngest started her second semester at university. So it was the perfect time to take stock of my parenting tenure and to think about my new life without kids living at home.

When we returned back to the states in June, I thought it was time for me to begin my new life, whatever that meant. One promise I made to myself while away was that I would make plans for lunch and/or coffee with more girlfriends more often. I started to explore what the next phase of my life would look like, trying on ideas in my head, thinking of how I wanted to spend my time. I was just beginning to get into a routine that felt good for me when I fell, broke my leg and ankle, and all of my routines and plans flew out the window.

Before the fall, I had been wondering how I could find that solitary “think time” in my life in Northern California as I had in Melbourne. I had started to miss my time to daydream, to think, to wonder. And now, forced off my feet for six weeks, I have found it again.

How do you carve ‘think’ time into your life?

As a blogger, I enjoy sharing my ideas and thoughts with people, and I get a special thrill when someone leaves a comment. When you share my posts on social media sites, I jump up and down doing a happy dance. So thank you!