• mindfulyogi

Burning question I've been pondering: Do most writers wake up this early ready to write?

Updated: Sep 8, 2018

Where was this instinctual wake up and urge to write before he moved out?! I almost could not stop myself from working yesterday. It’s like I hired myself for a whole new job. Or two. Or three.


All the energy.

It's ready to flow before the sun rises and wakes me. I mean, I sort of realize I'm waking up, a few thoughts form, and I'm already pushing dogs and humans out of the way in order to swing a leg out and get the party started. I used to wake up during the night a lot because of snoring and once I woke up I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Now, though, I sleep hard, wake up, and want to get back to all the projects and ideas and exciting things I've got going on.

This was not how I rolled my freshman year at SDSU. I remember having a hard time getting up before noon then. Twenty-nine years ago. Thirty pounds ago. A big shift ago. I remember being lonely. Hungry. Tired. Sad. Ugly on the inside and out. Being 18, for me, was pure hell.

My entire body and being were so different back then. It's hard to imagine I am the same person, really.

Am I?


Who I am now.

I am a single woman who writes, teaches school, teaches yoga, loves working with kids, teaches kids yoga, teaches tweens and teens yoga, teaches adults and the elderly yoga. I want to spread yoga and its benefits to others. I want to write books. I want to make a documentary about yoga in schools. I want to do a Podcast with my ENFP HSP Empath friend, Lara. I want to collaborate with the frenetic-minded Jason Silva. I want to go to Byron Bay again and see what happens. I want to love my friends who are true and good and gorgeous and I want to tell them each day how grateful I am to be here on Earth at the very same time as them!

I am a Writer. I am an Educator. I am a Role Model in the Community. I am a Mom. I am a Friend. I am a Daughter. I am a Lover.

I am not a Wife.


Up until two months ago, when still coupled, paired, partnered up, full-on married and had been for a long-ass time, I’ll admit that there were times I wanted to kind of get out of bed and write stuff that was going on in my head down… ideas, stories, thoughts, whatever… but I never really did. Maybe once or twice. SO rarely. Because I would be waking him up. Or afraid about being tired the next day (worth it). Or just too lazy for some reason; too covetous of sleep.

Truthfully, it's mostly because I didn't believe there was anything to say worth writing down.

But it's all worth writing down. There are stories everywhere. Write the story.


Why do I get out of bed and write, happily, now? Why am I almost five decades into this painfully beautiful life and it only feels real enough to write about now?

How come I loved to write before I met him but could not, would not, write much once I met him?

The easy answer is that the part of me that wanted to write was eclipsed by my (happy/unhappy/everything in-between) marriage.

Was my marriage really unhappy enough to call it quits? I get asked this a lot lately. Sometimes several times a day. And whether the question is thrown straight at me or danced around, it does give me pause each and every time. Really! I actually am stunned, still shocked, by our own split, our divorce, and when I get asked about it I consider the questions and formulate my responses based on how I'm feeling. My intuition. My heart. Me. I have no other way. I have never done this before.

If asked right now, here's what I've got inside of me in response to that question.

Was the marriage really unhappy enough to call it quits?

I didn't think it was a particularly unhappy marriage... but, then again, I have four children and two dogs and a few jobs here and there and family and friends and... well, I didn't stop to mindfully think about it until all of a sudden I felt different in my skin and we were in therapy that quickly turned into a mindful uncoupling over the summer.

I say quickly, but we were together for 21 years and married for almost 18. That's not lightning speed.

Sure, some of the past few months were fucking confusing and downright painful and felt like lightning strikes, but we are pretty lucky overall to be doing this divorce thing the way we are: as classy as we possibly can.

And here is where I must pass out some credit. First to my extensive reading. Due to my addiction to reading, I plowed through some excellent books during the lead up to and the process of our split. I also see a wonderful personal therapist who smiles a lot, encourages me to identify my feelings and hang out with them, and makes me feel happy to be alive. We see a great marital therapist, together, although we are currently overdue, and she is helpful in reflecting back to us what's going down and how to proceed. Also key... choosing the right people to listen to, to talk to; this part has been tricky and at times a tough learning process, but important. And, or course, where would I be without the fab five? Kids. Yoga, Reading. Writing. Dogs. (Make it six: Hot baths.)

In short, it takes a renewed commitment from me every day to stay classy. It's my work. Yet another job, and my most important job! Too stay nice. To be kind. To leave this phase of our couplehood with our pride and dignity and self-esteem and kids' self-esteem intact. It's not easy and I have to practice every damn day. I have to cool my flames, settle my instincts to be feisty, defensive, proud, vain, injured, upset, annoyed, bossy, pathetic, inauthentic, lame, pissed... all those lovely aspects of myself. The aspects of myself that, unfortunately, I polished for years.

(WARNING: You get good at what you practice.)


However, there are good instincts too. For me, I instinctually check in... and back in the day, during our long and oftentimes very loving marriage, I did take pause once in a while to reflect upon our marriage, our relationship, our couplehood, our joint venture, and it was going well. I was proud of us. In fact, I can remember twoish years ago or so thinking, "Wow, we're in such a good spot right now! Kids aren't super little anymore, job/housing sitch is stable, we laugh and find joy in our lives. We are lucky!"

So, yeah. Life is not a stagnant thing. We evolve. Does that help explain it? Our break up? I'd like to help you understand...


These days I go to bed early, usually planning to read a ton but only making it through three paragraphs before falling sleep. Before long, my almost ten year old daughter is right next to me, as are our two 15 pounds rescue dogs. Because my little girl slips in after I am already heavily asleep, and because she is quiet and tiny and wants to sleep in my room with me really really badly, I rarely hear her in the night. I just wake up and there she is, curled up next to the dogs and me, mouth open, totally snoozing. My feisty little daughter. Paige.

She's so cute. So difficult. And at that hour of the morning, cute as she is, she's in the way. My "office" is in my bedroom.

"Wake up, Sweetheart. Mommy’s going to work now and turn on lights and be really noisy (attractive offer, right?). Time to go to your own bed!”

Don't worry, I make it appealing while she's walking down the hallway to her own room. I remind her groggy self she's about to score two plus hours of extra-precious sleep time before she has to get up for reals and report to fifth grade. That motivates her quite nicely and she's back to sleep in seconds.

That's our current system and it's working just fine because I sleep alone every night these days, just me myself and I.

(Unless you count Paige and the dogs, of course).


I write because I love to read and I try to read a lot. But now that I am writing a lot my reading time is dipping and as I said before, not many paragraphs get read before I'm sleeping hard.

Now that I am single again I have space to parent, work, write, read, design websites, and seek out new relationships and passions from my new, more conscious, more empathetic, more compassionate, more wise self. I don't have a lot of time, though. Space and time. Space and time. Both are nice.

Sleep is different now that I am on my own.

Parenting is different now that I am on my own.

People say I even look different now that I am on my own.

I'm not sure about that, it could be the months of intermittent crying jags that permanently altered my visage... but hey, I'll take it as a compliment because the alternative doesn't appeal.

Life, suddenly, is different. And I like noticing how it's different. Feeling it. All of it.

This is the story of my journey into being single again, of becoming beautiful on the inside and the outside for the very first time in my life since the day I was born.

Welcome to my new life. It begins here. Today. Now.

I love this moment.

#consciousuncoupling #nomudnolotus #jenzayogiaptos


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