Damn, Girl, Get Over It

Woman on the beach letting balloons go

“Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.”
– Charles R. Swindoll

Charles is treading dangerously close to republican waters, which is actually a frozen lake where if you fall in, you are fucked. But Damn, Girl is going there.

The fact of the matter is it’s hard not to let the shit that happens to you and the shit that has happened to you affect your decisions for the worse.

There, there. Mama understands. Life is hard. We’re all getting beaten with shovels and felt up in cars and miss the semi annual sale at Victoria’s Secret. Life is just traumatizing AF. But this blog is about activating and harnessing your power, and to do that, there’s some shit you are going to have to let go.

Here are five things it’s time to get over: Continue reading “Damn, Girl, Get Over It”

My Apologies: Conquering the World One Sorry at a Time

Woman's hands holding a flower

The oldest thing I own is a piece of homework from 1st grade. It’s actually an entire booklet of paper bound in little plastic rings. “Tiara, Grade 1” is written in purple crayon across the construction paper cover.

God knows how I still have it. It has somehow weathered a hundred homes (and no home at all). I swear one day it will be archived as a religious script because of the shit it has endured. In the future, people will tell the miracle of how the little plastic-bound journal survived tornadoes, fire, and the summer my mom kept goats in the house.

There isn’t too much to report about the Holy Scripts. Mostly pictures of birds in the distance signified by “M”s, yellow sunshines and broccoli trees, but there is one very memorable entry:

My shit list. Well, my “shite” list. Apparently I was an Irish child.

Grade 1 and already making a shit list.

You see, there weren’t a lot of rules in my house. No curfews, no chores, no expectations of grades or school attendance, and the expletives were free to fly. Al Pacino and Eric Cartman screaming “God fucking damnit” echoed around my living room and Tony Montana himself might balk at the curse words that came out of my step dad’s mouth.

But there were two dirty words, so filthy that to speak them meant swift and violent retribution.

Those words were: “I’m sorry.”

Continue reading “My Apologies: Conquering the World One Sorry at a Time”