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I am on a journey to become more thoughtful this year. A conversation that I had with my sister back in November has stuck with me. In it, she expressed how she always tries to think of others, but sometimes it feels like shouting into a void. She’ll call; she’ll send random letters. It’s hardly reciprocated. This broke my heart, but mostly, it filled me with shame. because I am one of those voids that she shouts into. My sister is one of the most thoughtful people I know. Sh

Adam and I decide to car camp at a KOA in Carbondale one Friday night so he could wake up early to fish his favorite spot, about two hours away from our house. Fishing for him means time reading and writing and journaling and daydreaming out in nature for me. Our favorites. At the campground that night, we walk to the bathrooms with a lantern, most people already asleep. “Look up,” he says to me, turning off the lantern. I stagger as I bend backwards and lose my balance at th

In my journal I write: “What a gift to be fully surrounded by so many flavors of love… held by expressions of love in so many different ways.” I am grateful for the ways that I have been loved this year. The abundance of peaches that grew on the tree in my backyard this summer, loving me through sweetness. The butterflies and ladybugs that land of my skin when I’m out in the woods, loving me through soft presence. My sister calling me during the small pockets of her day, eith

It’s winter, which means that I inevitably find myself watching the movies that I watch each holiday season. Most recently, it’s been It’s a Wonderful Life (my mom’s favorite) and Christmas with the Kranks (my dad’s favorite). The two movies are inherently quite different, but watching them in succession to each other made me realize that they share a very similar sentiment. Our lives are deeply interconnected. George Bailey was born a selfless man. So was Blair, Nora and Lut

My heart thuds so hard I can feel it in my ears. I have nervous energy coursing through my body. My knee bounces up and down while my foot twitches. I want to stand up and shake it out, release all this energy, but I try to keep myself still. I spent the last ten months as a student in a certification program called Rooted , a coaching certification to become a somatic practitioner through a curriculum of body-based modalities including somatic experiencing, Internal Family S

I have always been a liar. Typing those words makes me cringe, those words make me ashamed. But I know it’s important to say them, to acknowledge that piece of me, if I want to start telling the truth. Lying comes from a place deep inside that wants to protect me—I know that it’s a learned behavior that traces back to stages of my brain development that I can’t even recall. I have told big, ugly lies that have landed me in shitty situations of my own creation, but more often,

I met my best friend when we were five. She was the new girl in town, and something drew us together, effortlessly and easily. We are inseparable as we beg our parents for sleepover after sleepover, so afraid of asking that we say, “Can / we / have / a / sleepover?” together, each one of us speaking alternating words to soften the fear. We explore my parents’ backyard, making nature soup and pretending to be the orphans from Annie as we scrub their backyard patio with sponges

When I was little, my sister and I weren’t allowed to play on Dad’s good grass. My parents have a large yard that was a treasure trove as...

I am sitting on my parents’ outdoor cushioned rocking chair, feet propped up on the rim of their gas fire-pit. A blanket covers my lap as...

My car was hit while I was driving to Adam’s grandmother’s house last month. I am okay, the woman who hit me is okay. I was happily...

I’ve been a runner for most of my life, loving the rhythm and adrenaline of it, but had never run an official race until a month ago. We...

Inhale, slow exhale. Feel your heart beating in your chest. Feel the smooth wood underneath your legs. Touch your fingers together to...

Recently, I went on a writer’s retreat in Estes Park with ten other girls in the writing community that I joined a year ago (officially...

I’ve lived most of my life as a watered-down version of Courtney. This has been out of self-protection—stemming from my deep fear of not...

“Let’s walk around and see how this lake looks,” Adam is already turning, observing for signs of insect activity, eager to fish. I grab...

When leading SoulFlow™ embodiment  classes, I often say that our minds live in the past and the future, while our bodies live in the...

Each day that I get a FaceTime from my sister, a call that opens with a whoosh to the image of her face squished with her kids’, is a day...

It’s been a while since I spent an entire weekend truly alone. Adam went to a bachelor party in Palm Springs a few weekends ago, meaning...

For the entire month of June, I promised myself to write 300 words a day. Not for Substack, not in my notebook, not for emails. But 300...

I turned thirty on Monday. I turned thirty surrounded by trees and mountains and water and delicious food and people that love me. I...