More

 The siren call of procrastination is strong. There are so many things I want to do; so many things that call out in distraction. I just got rid of social media in the hopes that my screen time in mindless scrolling would be replaced by screen time writing... but it's so much more than screen time that distracts me.

It's puttering around the house, doing laundry when I should be writing. It's calling a friend when I don't want to tackle my to-do list. It's curling up with a second cup of coffee when I could be going out for a run. It's signing up for a dating app instead of heading to the beach to read.

But...

I'm making progress.

My whole life I've told myself that I am doing it wrong, but the reality must be different because if everything was so wrong, and if my procrastination was truly so awful, I wouldn't have accomplished as much as I have. I have to remind myself of this all the time: I'm not so bad! But the flip side of it is that right now I'm filled with the longing for more. I want more.

Since my divorce, I've reinvented myself several times, and many of those inventions were for the sake of survival: if a lion is chasing you, you reinvent yourself as a runner. With every reinvention, I got closer to who I want to be. The divorce itself was a commitment to stop putting myself last in life, to demand more for myself. My first job, in business development for a jeweler, was a reminder that I was capable of supporting myself and Tessa, and that I had something to offer an employer. (I doubled that business, and remain proud of it.) My next job was to remind myself that I wanted to give back to the world, and a food bank was a great place for that. The next job was to prove that I was a leader. In both of those positions in non-profit, I proved myself, hit donation numbers they'd never seen, improved systems and processes, and I was proud. But it wasn't enough. I wanted more. In teaching I find myself in a whole new way, and the bliss of using my degrees for their intended purposes is a luxury and an astonishment. I feel sure that I've been doing what I'm supposed to do.

And there's Tessa.

I have truly and honestly done my best with mothering her. I have fallen short, absolutely, more times than I can count, but I also have faith that between us there is something good and true, and that she has received what she needed from me. We're still growing and learning together, and I am so proud of the two of us. She found her fire to head to a four year college, and I found a way to make it happen. When she goes out in the world, she will take me with her: she will never doubt, not for one second, that she is loved, worthy, supported. She will never question my desire to do right by her. She will forgive me, not because I am worthy of forgiveness or because she is saintly, but because she is generous and because I know how to admit it when I'm wrong and to change my behavior.

Tessa and I are well.

So, with work going well, and with Tessa and I in a good place as she launches the nest... I want more. I want to change our relationship into one between two women, not a woman and a girl, even as we both acknowledge that no matter her age, we are mother and daughter. I want to celebrate her as she grows, and I want to help her, and I want to let her soar on her own, and instead of reaching some new ending, I simply want more. More experiences with her, more depth, and more levels to our relationship. More. (Let it be said here, clearly and for the record: more does not mean more time. Letting her become the person she needs to be is important to me, and she needs space. I intend to give her that space.)

I'm thinking about what more means to me, beyond the two biggest things in my life (Tessa and work, in that order).

Writing.

Finances.

Love.

Fitness.

Playfulness.

In summer, it's so much easier for me to ponder the questions and to start putting them into action.

This blog is a warmup, but my real work is to write my book. Now that I've straightened out the narrator issue, I need to fight the fear and just write and write and write, and then edit and edit and edit. I just feel so sure of this book. It's my personal legend, and what I'm supposed to do. I want more. I have more to say, more to explore, and I am more than I have been and I know that writing is how I get bigger, and fully develop into myself.

I'm refinancing the house, I'm getting a raise, and I am ready to hit a new stride financially. The stay at home cancer years followed by the divorce years have been painful - but the best is yet to be. My pride at being able to help Tessa get through college is immense. It won't be easy, but it will happen. I want more out of my financial life, and I am willing to sacrifice, but I also want more: more savings, more vacation, more security. More.

I have some work to do on myself to be ready for love. I'm still processing my relationship to my family, and the messages that I internalized about myself through my family and my marriage, and I'm undoing them. I am trying to remind myself that I do not need to be rich, beautiful, have a flat stomach, or be perfect in order to be worthy of mind-boggling love and true partnership. I am committed to trying though, and I signed up on a dating app (Hinge - is it good? I don't know yet) to see. But I have more to offer in a relationship than I did a decade ago or a year ago, and I want a relationship that is so much more than I've ever experienced. I want security and adventure, companionship and challenge, laughter and tears. I want to explore, and to be at home. I want to be fearless in my love, and to be loved fiercely and fearlessly in return. It is so much more than I've allowed myself so far, but I'm ready for more.

In my life, it keeps coming back to my body: my control over it, my health, the way I feel in my skin. This summer I committed to daily exercise and I've done a great job of it, and it just feels so much better to be in my skin than it did a month ago. I'm nowhere near in shape, but I can feel my body changing (the run isn't nearly so hard as it was a month ago) as my skin's gold tones deepen in the sunshine. What is best, though, isn't that my muscles feel stronger - it's that my head feels clearer. The more often I get outside, and the more often I get my heartrate up, and the more often that I stretch my limbs to push myself, the more sure of myself I become in all ways, and I love it, and I want to experience it more. My promise to myself is to keep it going when school starts - that I will come home and switch clothes right away to take Chance out. Standing by the shore at Lincoln, Lowman, Alki, or Mee Kwa Mooks is good for my soul. I need more of what's good for my soul.

And all of this leads to a kind of playfulness. Whether that's swimming in alpine lakes, trying a new restaurant, game night, kitchen dancing, Paint & Sip, singing in the car, Shakespeare in the Park - I want to play. I want to laugh, and to feel the fulness of living. I am tired of being scrappy, or making do, or accepting my lot in life. I want more. I want to be generous, to live in an abundance of joy, hope, and laughter. I don't need to be rich, but I am done worrying about every penny, even when I need to watch my pennies. I am choosing playfulness as a new mantra. My big goofy dog leads the way - he's a good companion for me.

I want more.

I'm getting more.

I deserve more.

More is on the way.