yellow hibiscus

Dying of Thirst?

I am, as it turns out, a yellow hibiscus.

Allow me to explain:

I thrive on both touch and words in the language of love. I say “I love you.” A LOT. I like to hear it, too. And I blossom under a steady diet of light, sweet, hey-you touch: a squeeze of my hand, a quick hug, a kiss dropped on the top of my head while passing by–heck, even a swat on the ass with a dish towel.

The thing is, I spent far too much of my life feeling deeply ashamed about that.

My ex is, truly, one of the kindest, loveliest, funniest and best-looking guys I know. He remains special and dear to me, and we have a great co-parenting relationship. We shared tons of common interests, we loved to talk to each other, and we laughed our asses off together.

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Money Talks—But Do You Talk Back?

I don’t mean to pry. But honey, I’m worried about your relationship. How are you guys doin’?

Nah, not your relationship with your spouse or partner or BFF. I’m talking about one of the most neglected, conflicted, anxiety-laden relationships in most people’s lives. I’m talking your relationship with money.

woman covered in moneu, maggie mcreynolds blogOur habits and beliefs about money start young. At a tender age, some of us were already hoarders, scrounging for every penny that fell out of dad’s pockets and into the sofa cushions; depositing every gift check; watching, hawk-like, anxious that our bank accounts and piggy banks fill.

And some of us were the polar opposite: money was like a hot coal burning a hole in our pockets. I had a young friend who felt so compelled to spend whatever money came her way as soon as possible that if the toy store didn’t have anything she particularly wanted, she’d actually buy something she didn’t, just to get that high of acquisition.

Both behaviors are actually motivated by fear of not having enough.

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baby kisses himself in mirror, maggie mcreynolds blog

Love the One You’re With

Think of someone you love. I mean, really, really love.

They’re wonderful, aren’t they? They mean so much to you. They bring you so much joy. You are grateful to have them in your life.

Except.

Their nose. It’s a little funny-looking, isn’t it? They’d be so good-looking if it weren’t for that weird nose. That, and that paunch they’ve developed lately—what’s up with that? Didn’t they say they were going on a diet but then they finished that tub of Ben & Jerry’s you’d been saving? No self-control. In fact, you can hardly stand to look at them. Their flabby tummy is icky.

And hey, doesn’t it seem like they don’t get around to doing a bunch of stuff they say they’re going to do? They kind of let you down, don’t they? Stupid procrastinators. They’re never going to amount to anything if they don’t get off their butts. What, they think their retirement income is going to take care of itself? If they’re not careful, they’re going to end up in a raggedy tent living under an overpass. And no one will help them. And no one will love them, ever ever again.

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