Susan, your words land straight in my heart. Thank you. I’m so glad this spoke to you—and even more, that you're feeling the courage to look deeper. That’s the beginning of everything. Keep following that gentle curiosity. You don’t have to dive in all at once—just notice, name, and nurture what’s there. That tenderness you feel is part of your power. Love you back. 💛
Yes, Kathleen. 💛 The exhaustion makes so much sense—carrying critical thoughts day after day is like walking uphill with a pack full of rocks. What if you set just one down today? Try this: “I’m doing the best I can with what I have.” Then breathe into that truth. Kinder thoughts aren’t fluff—they’re fuel. You don’t have to earn them. You just have to receive them, one gentle shift at a time. You're not alone. You're already on your way.
I’ve been unable to create anything for quite a while, and like you said, have assumed it was a lack of discipline. You’ve made me realize this idea of absorbing the pain, grief, fear (name the negative emotion) of others is suffocating me. I have enough scars of my own. Maybe I’m trying to avoid my own pain by focusing on other’s. Thank you.
Thank you for your honesty. That insight is powerful—and brave. Sometimes the kindest thing we can do for ourselves is to stop carrying what was never ours to hold. What if the pause in your creativity isn’t a failure of discipline, but a wise signal from your body and heart saying, “Let’s make space to heal first”? You’re not behind. You’re becoming. Be gentle as you reconnect—with yourself, and with your art. It’s still there, waiting. 💛
Lynn, I admire and am really drawn to your authenticity, bravery and openness. It must have been so hard to go through a mastectomy. Telling your story is a gift to your readers, and I thank you for that. Creative expression has been healing for me, too. One of the foundations of the art course I’m taking now is to discover what I love and paint from that place. Very nourishing.
Thank you, Linda. Your words mean a lot. Yes, the mastectomy was hard—and sharing about it has been a way to soften the edges and connect with others walking their own hard paths. I love that your course invites you to paint from what you love. That’s where the real healing and magic live, isn’t it? Keep following that thread. It sounds deeply nourishing and true.
Yes! Bingo Lynn!
This topic is so for me.
Thank you for being the one who shares the most tender parts of herself.
I love and appreciate you and your willingness to share the most hidden parts of you.
You’ve given me the courage to look deeper and deeper.
Love ❤️
Susan, your words land straight in my heart. Thank you. I’m so glad this spoke to you—and even more, that you're feeling the courage to look deeper. That’s the beginning of everything. Keep following that gentle curiosity. You don’t have to dive in all at once—just notice, name, and nurture what’s there. That tenderness you feel is part of your power. Love you back. 💛
That weight is so heavy. I’m exhausted. It’s time to give myself kinder thoughts 💛
Yes, Kathleen. 💛 The exhaustion makes so much sense—carrying critical thoughts day after day is like walking uphill with a pack full of rocks. What if you set just one down today? Try this: “I’m doing the best I can with what I have.” Then breathe into that truth. Kinder thoughts aren’t fluff—they’re fuel. You don’t have to earn them. You just have to receive them, one gentle shift at a time. You're not alone. You're already on your way.
I’ve been unable to create anything for quite a while, and like you said, have assumed it was a lack of discipline. You’ve made me realize this idea of absorbing the pain, grief, fear (name the negative emotion) of others is suffocating me. I have enough scars of my own. Maybe I’m trying to avoid my own pain by focusing on other’s. Thank you.
Thank you for your honesty. That insight is powerful—and brave. Sometimes the kindest thing we can do for ourselves is to stop carrying what was never ours to hold. What if the pause in your creativity isn’t a failure of discipline, but a wise signal from your body and heart saying, “Let’s make space to heal first”? You’re not behind. You’re becoming. Be gentle as you reconnect—with yourself, and with your art. It’s still there, waiting. 💛
Lynn, I admire and am really drawn to your authenticity, bravery and openness. It must have been so hard to go through a mastectomy. Telling your story is a gift to your readers, and I thank you for that. Creative expression has been healing for me, too. One of the foundations of the art course I’m taking now is to discover what I love and paint from that place. Very nourishing.
Thank you, Linda. Your words mean a lot. Yes, the mastectomy was hard—and sharing about it has been a way to soften the edges and connect with others walking their own hard paths. I love that your course invites you to paint from what you love. That’s where the real healing and magic live, isn’t it? Keep following that thread. It sounds deeply nourishing and true.