Deferred farewells & regret

A very dear part of my childhood slipped away this past May.

My uncle, William (Billy) Gibbons, or Uncle Buddha as we called him, passed away suddenly in my old bedroom at my dad’s house here in Arkansas. He was 62. He’d been living with my dad for a few years, taking care of my dog, Bella, while I was off living my life in Dallas. The crazy thing is, it had been years since the Gibbons brothers—Billy, Kenny, and my dad, Phillip—had been together, and they got to see each other for a final time, out of the blue, before Billy passed.

What it means to be human

Emptiness

In recent weeks, I've come to realize the consequences of not leading a creative life. There's an emptiness that darkens the sunny places—motherhood, my relationship, even the pride I feel in being productive at work. If I'm pouring all the love and energy within me to be a good mom and supportive and complementary partner—if I'm pouring all the effort and output within me into my job, when does that all run out? What's left?

Is it possible to do audiobooks wrong?

Until five weeks ago, audiobooks were somewhat of a newfangled concept to me. With their ever-growing popularity among consumers, and double digit sales growth year-over-year, (Good E-Reader reported sales growth of 28.8% in Q1 of 2017 versus Q1 of 2016), it was time to squelch my inhibitions around downloaded audio. It took a considerable amount of internal dialogue to convince myself that listening to an audiobook wasn't cheating. But once I found myself shoreside in Orange Beach, Alabama, disconnected from the grind of daily life, I decided it was the perfect time to plug into an audiobook.

Monday morning at the office

Monday morning. I jolt to my blaring alarm, fumbling snooze several times, and then I lift myself out of bed to conquer the day. An act of false courage. I shuffle over to my closet and stare in. I stare in, wearily scanning my wardrobe, completely aware that I'm over it all.  I'm over it all, and I'm screaming on the inside at what a coward I am.