What would you give up to chase your dreams?
Matt Ray leads a surreal existence that encompasses swimming with elusive whale sharks, jungle treks in pristine rainforests, lemur encounters in Madagascar, South African safaris and stunning ocean horizons. He’s an environmentalist, minimalist, sailor, diver, writer, musician, photographer and world traveler.
But he wasn’t always that guy. Only a short few years ago, he was like most of us. He worked diligently for his employer, had realistic goals of home ownership, possessed a normal amount of stuff, and led a stable life that allowed for planned vacationing here and there.
Through…
Stable mental health is my illusive unicorn. I see it ahead and nearly grasp the beastie, but it skitters off and leaves me floundering in a dense forest of depression and mental muck. Like many survivors of child abuse, I have emotional baggage that exceeds the standard weight limits. I spent half my life unaware that I was carrying excessive luggage. Once I understood I had such an emotional burden, I spent the next several years beating myself up. Why couldn’t I just get over this? …
I’m Elle.
My life is punctuated by periods of restlessness, where I pace and plot ways to escape, followed by intervals of bizarre adventures.
I loathe routine. My only habitual behaviors are consuming mass quantities of coffee, writing, inserting Oxford commas, and sustenance-seeking. Everything else is subject to change at the discretion of this management.
Recently, I was a nasty woman patient, asserting my medical rights and taking no prisoners. For this tirade, I make no apologies. Gender biased roles implied I should submit to the rules, like a nice, quiet girl. But this isn’t a situation for my docile compliance. Time is of the essence. I had to aggressively push back against the system.
I didn’t always see these encounters as prejudice. But in totality of the healthcare experience, it is another brick in the thick wall of gender discrimination, causing women to forcefully self-advocate, even when some are gravely ill. …
The nutcracker standing on my fireplace mantle is pathetic — a damaged, macabre holiday icon. Tragically decapitated at the hairline, like an unfortunate dinner guest of Hannibal Lector, this lobotomy patient now reigns over my 2020 Christmas. One painted eye is partially scraped off. The other fixed and open, in a perpetual, leering wink. The sword at his side is also broken and hangs flaccid. These injury sources are new and mysterious. After the holidays last year, he was intact and carefully packed away — a brave and solid decoration. This year, he emerged from the wrappings a mangled travesty.
…
In the beginning, I thought I was prepared for a pandemic. At least, better than most. I was wrong about that. The stress of running a perpetual marathon in this environment is unraveling my psyche. I alternate between affirming self-talk and sinking into a pool of profound negativity. Most days, the latter is winning.
The stakes are exceedingly high now, complex, and different in the types of decision-making I’ve built a career around. I should be proficient at this.
Full disclosure: I’m not. I’m struggling. I am suffering COVID fatigue.
The next few months are predicted to be challenging, with…
In 2017, I received $7,300 for a white paper I’d written. The article — a 7.3K word leviathan on establishing a workplace safety culture — paid a dollar per word. Although one of the larger single projects I’ve developed, it reflects my standard rate. Depending on the depth of research, I usually charge $0.50 to $1.00 per word. Can you get this type of pay? Absolutely. My skills aren’t magical. Dear Writers, stop selling yourself short. There are markets that pay quite well for your knowledge. Earning a viable income simply requires refocusing your craft as a business commodity.
Threads…
The progression of 2020 has been strikingly similar to trying to pass a kidney stone — seemingly endless in duration and teaming with unexpected and excruciating twists. Small wonder the holidays amidst a pandemic are frustrating and challenging, too.
As we’re all keenly aware, life is complex now. Pandemic-related living has caused financial tension, changes in our social lives and work habits, and separation from friends and family. Even a brief grocery store trip is stressful and seems rife with hidden microscopic hazards. Keeping social distance for almost a year is hard, even for loner folks like me. …
“Hey Mom, I just wanted you to know, I’m dating a girl. I’m gay. I love you.” Before I could answer, my youngest daughter hung up. That was how she came out to me. The master of brevity, that one is. Also, she has a proclivity for calling at odd hours, totally unaware that some humans actually sleep at night and our brains aren’t wired for 24–7 interactions. But I digress.
In that one micro conversation, she took a huge leap of faith, trusting I’d accept and love her. At the time, I didn’t understand the courage it took to…
As we face the results of an epic election, it seems fitting to reflect on the vast divisions in our nation. The marked divide has escalated to the point that cities are bracing for conflict, citizens are arming themselves due to fears of civil unrest in the event of a disputed election result, and a whole lot of people are just angry at each other. For adding to the division, the evangelical church leaders should answer, as well as step up to the plate and help heal this fractured country. Yes, Evangelical Leaders, I’m speaking to you directly. Your support…