The Loneliest Post

Every blog has one. It's the lone child on the playground at a new school, longing for acceptance–a feeling that became familiar with my family's nomadic wanderings around Arizona and southern California.

Lord of the Flies, Steens Wilderness, Oregon

Today, as I prepare for another move, I'm grateful for this book that has brought so many inherited patterns to the surface. I'm able to shine a light on them, examine them without judgement, thank them for their service, and gently put them away.

This book has been burning a hole in my heart for my entire adult life. Writing it feels like less of a choice, and more of a necessity. The process has rototilled memories I hadn't planned on processing, but I finally have adequate tools to do it without drinking, lashing out, or otherwise melting down. I share those tools in the book.

Photo credit, Beau Anderson

My goal is to publish by August 2026 which may be optimistic, but the time of writing this post, I am on chapter 6 of 13 and writing every day. Or it's writing itself, I should say. This is intended to be a hard cover, full color book, but who knows what will happen once it's out of my hands.

xo

Cheryl