I’ve been reading back through this dusty old blog tonight. It’s been fun to read about how I felt at different times throughout the last several years and remember things I’d forgotten. It made me realize how much I’ve missed writing here. It’s been a space to process my thoughts but also, to write for no reason other than to write because I love it. I’m not a journaling person although I do admit to having a few journals in a rubbermaid bin somewhere. They’re full of angst and drama from my teen years.

Writing sort of found me by accident. I wasn’t drawn to it in high school or even in college. What I was drawn to were books. If you know me, you know I love books. I love to read them most of all but I also love to look at book covers in a bookstore. I love to think about how the author came up with her idea for the story and what the process was to get it onto the shelf. I love to see a shelf full of them and if it’s in my house, even better. I’ve been slowly won over to reading from a kindle from time to time but paper books will always be my first choice. In a world filled with technology, a paper book takes me back to nature. My husband rolls his eyes when I say I’m one step away from a tree with a book in my hand. 😉 But seriously, I do love the disconnect of a paper book.

And now I’ve forgotten what I was trying to say. Oh yes, writing and I found each other by accident. When my boys were very young, I started a blog that doesn’t exist anymore where I wrote about early motherhood because I was home with the kids, feeling isolated and I wanted something that helped me not forget myself. It brought me a lot of joy. What had started as an attempt to not feel obsolete turned into something I realized I was good at. I could get words out in a way that made sense. Eventually, life got in the way and I let my blog go. I didn’t renew the website and that was that. And then I started this blog because I wanted to try again. And then I stopped. I can’t even tell you why. I think life got busy and I told myself I’d get around to it and then I didn’t. It’s as simple as that.

And now here I am.

Sometimes I have a hard time thinking of what I want to write about so I don’t. And sometimes the only topic I can think to write about is a crazy rant about something that mades me really mad. So I don’t. I rarely share do my frustrated opinions in public unless I’ve really thought about it and decided it’s worth it. It’s usually not.

I’m currently under the covers in my bed on a Friday night. It’s been a long week. There are things going on that I can’t say much about. There is grief I’m still deciding how to process. But there are also wonderings and a longing for a space to do something that isn’t for my family or my job or even for my dog or house or yard or credit score.

So here I am, writing on this blog. I’m going to dip my toes in the water and see how it feels. If I’m lucky, it’ll feel good enough to go for a dip and stay awhile. And if it doesn’t, it’s okay. This is a no pressure kind of space! But I’m hoping I do love it. Not for any other reason than to do something that’s just for me. That’s reason enough, right?

xo

Bon

Stepping onto a scale is a weird experience. You take your clothes off, stand on a square box and look down to see what number will show up. This number doesn’t have any value on its own but somehow, what we see staring back at us can leave us feeling happy, sad, guilty, mad, accomplished, worried or a hundred other things. As a society, we have decided that certain numbers are acceptable and certain numbers are not.

I remember when I was newly married, I was trying to gain weight. I was very thin and could eat a whole pie or a dozen donuts and not gain a pound. My Dad had been nicknamed ‘bone racks’ in high school and my genetics seemed to be following the same trend. Later, when I filled out a little more, people still commented on how small I was. Depending on the tone, it was either a compliment or a criticism of my size… something I really had no control over. Looking back, it was a wonder that people felt the need or right to comment on my body at all. I guess the number on the scale was good or bad, depending on who was judging.

Years later, after struggling to get pregnant, I underwent IVF treatments to have a baby. It was a success! I gained 60lbs during pregnancy and had to work really hard to get the weight off afterwards. I later found out someone had commented that he hoped his future wife didn’t look like me after having a baby. I was both mortified and angry. I had just grown a human in my body after much struggle and I was reduced to a number, as if that was the only thing that mattered. I lost the weight. It was even harder after my 2^nd pregnancy, but I shed the pounds again. Pat on the back. The number on the scale was correct.

Several years later, as I approached 40, I felt some invisible force tap the brakes on my metabolism, like almost everyone does around the same age. I changed how I was eating, started moving a little more to fit into my clothes. None of these changes in my lifestyle were a bad thing. I actually started to feel better on the inside as well. I had more energy, less brain fog. My digestion improved and funny symptoms started to disappear. Despite these positive benefits, when I stepped on the scale, I would feel good or bad, depending on the number. How could a number hold so much power? Even when I felt good inside my body, I’d step onto the scale just to check, as if that number would tell me more than what my own body was saying to me.

Who decided what number was a good one or a bad one for my body and for yours? We’ve given preferential treatment to a weird square contraption over our own intuition. We ignore what our own bodies are saying. Our bodies are actually really smart.

At the end of 2022, I made a decision to do something different in the new year and give my body the credit she deserves. I decided to trust her. I decided not to weigh myself once in 2023. Over a month in, I feel better than I have in a long time. Instead of the scale, I’ve been paying attention to how I feel.

Am I happy?

Do I have energy?

Do I feel good?

Am I sleeping well?

Do I enjoy the food I’m eating?

Did I have fun?

Was it time well spent?

Do I feel connected?

These are the things that matter. These are the things that make for a happy life. And when these things are paid attention, the result is a body that is the shape and size she’s meant to be. And the truth is… I am not a number and neither are you.

Xo, Bon

Every year my goal is 30 books. This is the first year in ages that I haven’t read at least that many. I’m ending at 22 and my middle schooler is very disappointed in me. 🙂 He realized back in August that I wasn’t pacing for the year and was quite bothered that I didn’t care all that much!

It’s just been that kind of year. I had one book that took me AGES to get through… like almost 2 months. I should’ve given up on it. We had summer guests for over half the summer. I got a new job that leaves me with much less free time. Blah blah blah. It doesn’t matter. I read 22 books and I feel good about it! One thing I did read more of this year were good books. In 2021, I read a ton but had a hard time picking my top 6 for the year because there were plenty of meh reads. Today I will have a hard time picking my top 6. Here they are in no particular order!

1. People We Meet on Vacation: I don’t know where to start with this book. It was my first read of 2022 and I don’t remember a lot about it. What I do remember is that it was so good and the author mastered the tension of this story. I could not put it down. It had romance and humor and real human connection all wrapped up for a really good read. I can’t recommend this enough!
2. Ask Again, Yes!: This story had tragedy and love while tackling really hard topics with no easy answers. Mental health and addiction were the themes of this story and I felt drawn into the characters from the beginning.
3. The Extraordinary Life of Sam Hell: What a book! We read this in my book club and everyone felt that it could’ve been an autobiography, it read so true. The story was amazing and I couldn’t put it down! Just read it!
4. The Invention of Wings: This historical fiction is set in the south and looks at history through the eyes of 3 women: a slave owner, her slave and the slave’s mother. It’s beautiful, intense, tender and heart-breaking. I loved this book and read it in a few days. I found the story pulled me in very quickly and didn’t let me go!
5. It Ends With Us: This BOOK! All I can say is… read it! I don’t really want to say too much that gives it away but it’s a powerful story about hard choices in relationships and what kind of story we are handing down to our children.
6. We Begin At The End: This book was part mystery, part love story, part tragedy all wrapped into a perfect book. The characters were so unique and compelling. I felt a little on edge through this story (the author meant for this!) but I liked how it all played out. It’s definitely a story worth reading!

Notable other read: Every Summer After… I read it in a day and goodness, it’s steamy! I loved it and have recommended it to many friends who have also loved it. If you need a good vacation read or an escape from whatever is ailing you, read this. You’ll feel better.

I kept it short and sweet this year but every one of these books is worth your time. You won’t be disappointed!

xo Bon

I am not very good at rest and moving slow. I am a list maker, a planner and a get ‘er doner. It feels unnatural to do life any other way and most of the time, I’m actually happiest when I’m productive. Do you relate? I have friends who do and some who don’t! However you’re built, there’s not a right or wrong way to do life! But for myself, I tend to be happiest on my feet and moving most of the time.

Strangely, I’ve been feeling a very strong pull these days to make rest a priority in my life. We’ve always planned ‘rest days’ as a family but I’ve often felt a lot of anxiety on those days as I tried to REST. My eyes would roam the room, seeing all the things that could be done. Even if I resisted the pull to do something, my mind would be running a hundred miles an hours with future tasks and plans. Resting has been a stressful endeavor for me!

After 6 years of being self-employed, running my little business ‘BonHome’, flipping houses, I decided to become an employee for a change. The real estate market has been a little topsy turvy this past year (I’m sure you’ve noticed!) and I wasn’t really feeling the fire doing generic remodels anymore. There was only so much room for creativity with my projects. After my last project, I told my husband it might be the last one. So I’ve been on a new adventure with a job that has set hours and an early start… 7:30am everyday! It’s definitely been an adjustment (not a morning person!!) but I like my work and after 6 weeks, I feel like I’ve found ways to fit in the things I had plenty of time for before… workouts, time with friends… it’s not enough time but it works for now. During this last month and a half, I’ve noticed that I’ve needed to be more conscious about taking time to rest. Not having an abundance of time to schedule how I choose has left me feeling like I need to budget my off-work hours more carefully.

As the holidays were sneaking up on us and we looked at the calendar, I started to feel panic at how full things were getting. We are notorious for filling our calendar TO THE BRIM in our everyday life and for the most part, not sorry about it. But this year, I knew I needed something different for the holidays. It may be the big life changes that have shaken up my routine or maybe just wisdom as I’m getting a little bit older but I’m listening. I’m taking time to sit on the couch when there’s plenty to do. I’m reading another chapter when I have a pile of mail to go through.  And the more I do it, the easier it’s getting. It’s almost like working out. At first, it’s really hard but as you get stronger, it starts to feel good and you even crave the movement. That’s how I’m starting to feel about rest. It feels good. I’m craving it.

For the first time in my adult life, my holidays are not jam packed and I am not exhausted 3 days before Christmas. I could almost cry at this realization. How sad that it’s taken me this long to even attempt to slow down during the holidays.  There will always be dishes, laundry, errands, mail to open, invitations, appointments… you know the drill. The list never ends. For whatever it’s worth, I hope you feel inspired to take a break.

I’ll leave you with this. It’s my wish for all of us.

I wish you quiet nights, warm drinks, soft blankets and good movies. I wish you laughter in the company of people you love and feel safe with. I wish you good food that you enjoy without a single thought about calories… eating for the joy of it! I wish you time to sit and take a moment to feel how you feel. I wish you really good sleep in comfy pajamas. I wish you good books and good music. And most of all… This Christmas I wish you the slowness of the holiday season. It does exist and it’s there for you to find!

xo Bon