She folded my little pudgy toddler hand and said, "this means 'I love you' in sign language". And since then, it's been every special goodbye and family signal. They've spread out farther as I got older, but every once in a while I'll get to see my Mommy hold her big, scarred hand up so I can see that she loves me. My eyes will fill up with happy tears because this is us and this is love and this cannot be changed.

Ingredients:

suitcases
photo albums
quick wit
a  new space that is comfortable to breathe in, raise other beings in, and nurture pets and your spirit in.
Sprinklings of humor to shake on it all when it gets to be too much. Mason jars of self-appreciation and worth to open in an emergency, if these qualities are forgotten and old patterns resurrected.

Preparation:

First, sit quietly with yourself.
Breathe deeply, as many times as you need.
Fill as many soul cups as you can with confidence,
and pour them on yourself, until they sink into the
soapstone of your pores.

If needed, tip back your head and open your mouth,
in order to have a more direct inflow.
After that, take just as many cups of calm
and pour them in, slowly and with generosity.
It is okay if you overflow; you may need extra serenity
later, when you are in the midst of action.

Let the two ingredients mix, slowly, until colors as yet unnamed
are formed in your solar plexus, spilling
throughout the entirety
of your body.

Take a break and blow bubbles, for lightness.
Yes, you may laugh like a loon.

Marinade:*

After the laughter has subsided, take a big dose of self- love and rub it all over yourself, drizzled like fine coconut-scented oil. Do not miss a spot, even on the parts that you have a problem with. In fact, give those extra love.
And now, for the rub*: This has been simmering for a while. It is time to push it all into the oven and bake it. The heat is rising, so be quick.
Take all precious memories and sew them into the pockets of your coat. The ugly ones, burn, quickly and thoroughly. Scatter the ashes into the wind.
Hang new pictures on the wall.  Splashes of nature you have photographed. Mandalas created by a precious daughter. A platypus wishing you goodnight by your little flower imp. A cheeky photo of your boy, to remind you of inner sauciness.
All of these strengthen with love.

Finally, rest your head upon the new pillow and inhale the scent of freshly laundered springtime. For now, the ordeal of your winter has ended.

Time for a long, languid, luxurious dessert.
A new life!

Bon appetite!

You are not the wind in the trees
Nor the sweet summer breeze
You are not the stars that light the night
Or the sun shining bright

You're the reason I take notice of it all

You are not kisses in the rain
Make-out time on lovers lane
You're not dancing in the streets
Or dancing in the sheets

You're the reason I desire to

You're not the reason my heart beats
You're the reason for the speed
You're not the reason I survive
You're why I'm glad to be alive

Just as you are....I love you

Innocent girl,
afraid of the world.
They have no idea what goes on in your mind.

They can't see the cuts.
They can't hear your thoughts.
They can't see you're at war with yourself.

"You're too good."
"You'd never do wrong."
"You're so innocent."

They can't see you're dying.
They can't hearing your crying.
They can't hear you screaming for help.

Innocent girl,
when will you tell the world,
about the pain you feel.

They don't believe you could hurt,
They don't believe you could bleed,
They are sickened by your "perfection".

"You've never been depressed."
"You're mind is so clear."
"You've never known struggle."

Innocent girl,
when will you show the world,
the scars you have from losing your mind.