Spring In My Step.

The first signs of spring first slipped through the house when my cat began her incessant meowing at the window. Looking longingly at the green grass, she began to make it known that she had a strong desire to venture outdoors.

Following her demanding orders (after all, she is queen), I took her outside and sat with her on the lawn.

As she explored and snacked on the various grasses, animal instinct taking over as her ears moved to the sound of the chirping birds singing their spring song, I took a minute to look around me.

Spring had arrived, that much was evident.

Green grass glowed, the sun shone, and there was this smell of rich Mother Earth as she began to wake from her long winter’s nap.

After spending an extended season indoors and in the confines of my dour and often depressing thoughts, the brilliant sunshine all but stung my eyes as I adjusted myself to the brightness and change of scenery.

A change of scenery that was more than welcome in my life.

Like the plants that were once buried underneath mounds of snow, I felt myself physically and mentally unfurling from months of hibernation, stretching and grasping for sunshine. For life, for growth.

Though I did not handle this last winter well, I made it through and came out alive. Maybe a little bruised, maybe a little heartbroken, maybe having experienced some of the rougher parts of growing as a young adult, but all the more wiser and thoughtful about myself and life.

The thing I most admire about Mother Nature right now, her bountiful greenery reflected back at me in a freshly mowed lawn and the vibrant color of living breathing life, is that like me, she just spent the last six months buried beneath heaps of cold snow and ice.

And though part of Mother Nature was not quite alive during the cold spell, she knew that her time was coming when she would bloom again.  

See, I love how Mother Nature’s plant life sleeps in the winter, following this cyclical routine. Her plants wilt, fall, root, rise, and bloom. And the pattern repeats itself, year after year.

Much like her plants, we, as people, go through parts of our life that follow the concept of cyclical change. Wilting, falling, rooting, rising, and then blooming.

I best see the earth around me in harmony with human life thanks to eye opening writer Rupi Kaur, who taught me to…

“…think of those flowers you plant

in the garden each year

they will teach you

that people too

must wilt




in order to bloom.”

Once I put in perspective that my journey follows that of all life, whether plant based or human based, I can better appreciate and learn from all the experiences I go through and take them for what they are: growth.

I know that some years, growth will be painful. It will hurt me and cause me to spend more nights crying myself to sleep than with a smile on my face, but it is all part of the revolution of me. Those may be the years I wilt, but the years after will be those that I rise, just like the plants that bloom right on time in the spring.

If I can take this winter’s experiences and learn that it is normal and healthy to go through periods of change, albeit it was uncomfortable and incredibly pessimistic at times, I can better handle challenging situations that life throws at me.

With this beautiful summer ahead of me and this beautiful life ahead of me, I’m choosing to work on celebrating growth, in all of its pains and aches. I’m choosing to let go of things, people, guys, that make me feel anything but energized and alive. This change of seasons is reminding me of what I could feel like if I just chose to embrace the cycle of growth. I’m tired and sick of choosing sadness, and while it was easy to do in a time of year known for depression and cabin fever, I now have no choice but to want to mimic this cheerful lively step into spring. 

It’s a change of seasons, but it’s also a change in attitude. 

And already, it’s put a “spring” in my step.  



Small Steps.

The other day, I took a step.

It was one step.

One itty bitty teeny tiny baby step.

But it was a step, and that step was in the right direction.

To some, it may have looked like just a typical weekday conversation, but to me, it represented a whole lot more.

Because it wasn’t just a conversation: it was a small step forward in pursuing my passion, a baby step in this journey of mine.

This “journey” I speak of, is one currently fraught with discomfort, self-doubt, uncertainty, and a feeling of being completely and utterly lost. After having overcome obstacles as big as hiking the Grand Canyon at age ten, performing in front of hundreds of people reciting monologues and cackling as the green Wicked Witch, not to mention living in five different cities in the past six years, I should be used to stepping out of my comfort zone.

Yet here I am, living in the most cliche version of a comfort zone and I’ve never felt more uncomfortable.

I’ve been aware of how living in this comfort zone has caused me to develop feelings of low confidence and self-esteem for awhile now, but I’m trying to figure out how these feelings developed when I once used to thrive on stepping outside of the box, which successfully got me through periods of change.

And maybe that’s the kicker: there is no change. Living comfortably at home and in my familiar routine, I’ve had no momentum to move forward in pursuing my writing, which is one of the main reasons I moved back to this spectacular state. It’s like the longer I stay in this so called “comfort zone” (though it feels more like the “uncomfortable zone” ), the more uncertain I become because I become more stagnant in my personal growth.

Part of that is due to the fact that I’ve lost some belief in myself and my abilities, part of that is not knowing or having the courage about what step to take next to get out of my comfort zone, but the biggest part has to do with not appreciating the little steps I’ve been taking already.

Like writing to you. Whether I’m conscious of it or not, every time I sit down to write on my blog, or in my journal, I’m proving to myself that I am committed to my writing. That deep down, I’m trusting it will lead me somewhere, though I may not know where. After all these years, I continue to write week after week without awards, attention, and without knowing if anyone reads it or not. Because the thing that matters most with persistence and believing in myself and my writing is that the longer I stick with this passion, the more it grows and gets bigger. Each blog post, each sentence I write, and every baby step I take is propulsion onward. I have to be proud of the fact that I’m not marching in place, but forward, and in a direction that will eventually lead to success.

Having that conversation was a big personal stride for me because it wasn’t just a physical step in my journey forth, but it reminded me of my belief in myself, the belief I thought I had lost.

It’s about time that I look at all I’ve done and find gratitude and excitement in the little steps, no matter what size. A step is a step. And the more I find joy and peace in them, the more I learn to appreciate the rich life I already have.

For a tall gal, I always imagined that my steps forward in life would be as big as my stride. And they are, they’re just made up of a series of small steps, which all come together and make one big tall girl step..