This year has brought a lot of difficulty—Many of us have lost loved ones, income, or set aside dreams and goals we had worked toward. As a parent, it has challenged my patience and as an American, it shined a light on the morals and integrity of the people around us. For those of us who cannot compartmentalize issues of human rights or stand by when people are being hurt, this year likely brought some stark realizations about those we considered friends. For many, it has strained relationships with family as well. But with that comes a deeper appreciation for those who make us better versions of ourselves. For the people who are willing to fight, rather than giving in.

I will forever think of this year as the one where I learned what honesty and connection really feels like. Especially given the personal challenges so many of us have had to face this year. My appreciation for the people in my life who get that parenting is really damn hard, racial injustice needs to be challenged, women should not be shamed for their body, and that friendship is about letting people know you care about their feelings but never sacrificing your integrity.

Despite the physical isolation from most people in my life, this year has been one of the most romantic in the depth of communication and understanding I have found. From late night talks and shared music to intimacy. It has brought emotional challenges and brutal honesty. It has brought longing and pragmatism. It has made me see myself in new ways and understand my worth and limits. To set boundaries and let go of perfection in exchange for real connection. This year has been hard, don’t get me wrong, but it also has made me see people more clearly and to accept life as it is. To not make excuses for our choices, but to take people at face value. This year has reminded me that while love and friendship in your 40s comes with decades of experience and baggage, if you have honesty, that’s not always a bad thing.

2020 will forever be a time in my life that pushed me to appreciate what is important. Where the game of “what if” and “if only” were replaced with finding what is and accepting that. This year I started really paying attention to what I need and asking for it. In doing so, I let go of many people I had considered friends and found my voice by speaking up for myself and others. This was easy to do with people around who offer fierce and unapologetic support. These friendships have carried me through the anxiety and difficulty of this year. If this year has seemed like a decade, the people I have gone through it with are now some of my oldest friends. I am so grateful for the lessons I have learned.

​Rather than lament the loss of freedom and spontaneity, I choose to celebrate my growth with gratitude. To feel blessed for the time I have spent with those I love and who I will see on the other side of this. I have no idea what the future holds, but am looking forward to whatever comes.

I started this website and my Instagram account almost 2 years ago: about to turn 40, heartbroken, and trying to pull myself together by sharing music, poetry, and travel. I was amazed to find a community of vinyl collectors, mostly men. I talked with many about divorce and heartbreak. They said my words and posts helped. What I found was that speaking from the heart draws people to you.

Earlier this year when there was backlash on Instagram for how women posted with records, something snapped in me. Previously, my posts had included feet, the occasional shot of lace, and posts that people classified as “classy.” But, after seeing such blatant sexism get a pass, I became emboldened to express myself in ways I never thought I could.

There are some who feel sexy posts are about follows or getting male attention, that it detracts from the music.

Here’s what I think:

Men like breasts, feet, whatever (women do too!), but that doesn’t mean they are not capable of being respectful and they absolutely are looking at the record too.

A sexy post does not mean a woman doesn’t have body issues—it’s likely part of her journey. There is power in a woman owning her body and her sexuality and other women connect to that vulnerability and strength.

I have been told some people are turned off by my posts on this issue, that my tone is divisive. But we have divisions when there is a choice. We have big problems in this world and they sometimes manifest in the smallest ways. Change does too.

When women tell me how much they appreciate my pictures and what I have to say, that it inspires them in some way, I know how they feel, because I am inspired by women here too. I will always stand by a woman who chooses to share her body and own her sexuality, rather than one who will tear her down.

*I took this picture some months ago, unfiltered with no makeup. For some reason I thought it was too intimate to post, but it’s probably the most honest and happy picture I’ve taken of myself in years, so I decided it was worth sharing.

Amazon/Audible and Google podcasts
​coming soon

Some nights you are so much a part of me it’s like you are next to me in bed,
with your quiet breaths and occasional snores.

Other nights you seem like a dream.
So far from possibility.

But, then I think of your smell.
My face in you as we sleep.
Your hand around my breast,
my foot between your legs.
Drifting off with a constant awareness of the other person’s presence,
but somehow able to sleep soundly. A miracle!

And distance
And time
And circumstance
Are both heavy and not important
at the same time.

Because no matter what,
your voice is there in the morning.
Rambling about the weather and coffee and music,
​and it’s the start of another day.