By a Thread
Monday Missives #34 (On the Road Edition)
Since last Monday, I have been in Santa Fe, NM. That is a whole week and the longest time I have spent in any place on this tour yet (or coming up). I planned to spend that much time here because in 2010, I moved to Santa Fe with my now ex-husband and lived in Santa Fe for four years. There are people here, people who are very important to me but whom I have not seen, in person, since I left eleven years ago, and I wanted to give myself the time and space to visit with them. It was very intentional.
I am so glad I made that decision, because this week has been an amazingly healing time. I stayed with my former work parents (from my second job in Santa Fe). I visited with my writing coach (the woman who met with me once a week for a year and a half and helped me finish my book), a former mentor, a former work bestie (we co-directed an art gallery in my first job in Santa Fe), several women I have met with on Zoom to study a book for the past three years (we took our time!), a woman I used to mentor and a woman who, over fifteen years, has become one of my closest friends (even though I have not seen her son, in person, since he was six). And I revisited all the places I lived in (three in total) during the four years I lived in Santa Fe.
The most surprising thing has been those visits to my former residences. Each time I pulled up in front of one of those houses, I felt nothing as in, I had no emotional charge. None. At first I was worried I was pushing something down, or pulling the denial wool over my eyes. But then I sat with it, scanned my body, and talked about it with a few close friends, and I realized nope, I am not in denial. I am not in flight or in freeze. I am, well, integrated. The pain those locations held is no longer governing who I am or how I feel. Wow. Never thought I would be able to say that and mean it. Or at least, back then (actually, for the ten years between 2010 and 2020, and truthfully a couple of years after that), I was convinced I would never, ever be free of any of it. And here I am, fifteen years after I moved to Santa Fe and eleven years after I left to go back to the East Coast, and I am free.
(You can read more about how I used to lived in a near-constant state of fight, flight, freeze or fawn in the Monday Missives #7: Loving the Life I Live…crazy cool how far I have come even since I wrote that piece and important to mark the progress I have made over the last six months alone).
Over the course of the week, while I sat with, listened to, and shared with all of these amazing humans, they had an opportunity to let me know a few things and I am so grateful I could hear it. One person looked at me and said, “Wow, you're so much fun.” My immediate, internal response was, “What does that mean?” So I asked for some clarification, and that’s when it became clear. I already knew that I lived in a disassociated state back then, and that mostly, I was just trying to survive. This person picked up on that. It’s not that I was no fun back then, but it’s that now I carry myself in a very light, as in airy, as in free (there’s that word again) kind of way. It’s not just that I am fun. It’s that I am having fun.
(That reminds me of the woman in Memphis with whom I recorded who said the same thing Barbara used to say, “If we’re not having fun, I’m not doing it.”)
Other people remembered things I said to them back then, which were really little wisdoms I was given by others (including Barbara) and that I simply passed on. Like, “I won’t be able to attend such and such because I have a prior commitment.” Often prior commitment was to myself—to go home and rest. But I was taught that a commitment to myself is the same as a commitment to someone else and that I keep my first commitment. Another person mentioned that when they went through a life tragedy, I called to offer my condolences and, when I left them a message, I led with, “You do not need to call me back. I just want you to know…” I am so glad I learned how to do that (from other women in the community I am still a part of to this day, some of whom I am visiting along this route because many of them, like me, have moved to different parts of of the country) because it gave her permission to not call me while grieving a devastating loss. The best part? She has since passed that on to others. And then there was a common theme from various people that I can best sum up as, “I don’t know what you were dealing with but no matter what, when I called, you always picked up the phone, listened to me vent, cry or stomp my feet, and offered me choices I could make.” Again, not something I knew how to do until someone else, including Barbara, showed me how by doing the same for me—over and over and over again. For years.
As I sit here and ponder all that, I realize that even though I shut down to survive a really bad time in my life (one that lasted for at least ten years), I did still have access to myself. I had something to share. Not only that—I did not hold it in. I shared it. Out loud.
That last part, the sharing of the things I had been given, tells me that even when I was not okay, some part of me, a part deep within me, wanted to live, not just survive (just thinking about it makes me want to cry). And that part of me knew that if I gave away the care and understanding I had received from others to others, it would keep me connected. It was a thread that was just enough to keep me connected to my Higher Power, Barbara, and others who loved me. And that is how I did not lose myself completely.
That is why, eleven years later almost to the day since I left Santa Fe, I could spend a full week down the road from the last home I lived in, a place that held mostly pain, fear and terror, and feel only joy and gratitude. Not only did I make my way out—I stepped into my life. And the little thread that kept me close then is the same thread that keeps me close now. It is a thread that keeps me connected to others and to myself as my life continues to expand.
RAFFLE UPDATE: To learn more about the special somethings in the Southern Region package that you can win in the raffle, check out the Day 16 Reel on my Instagram. Become a paid subscriber before October 1, 2025 and you are automatically entered to win. More about the raffle—and how becoming a paid subscriber helps me amplify more women’s voice—in the post below.
Meals Out: A few different places in Dallas but to be honest, I did not keep track of them in a log. And you know what? That kind of presence feels good—and I will not beat up on myself for being a “bad” content creator something or other.
Listening (voice): No podcasts…Too tired by the time I get into bed, I am too tired (in a good way) so I just crash.
Listening (song most likely on repeat): Nothing to add this week—I have not been listening to podcasts or music. I know that will change when I drive about seven hours (with stops) to Denver today. So, next week, I will have something to add here. In the meantime, you can check out the Discoball Tour playlist on Spotify. Every song I listen to while I drive around is added to this playlist (even the ones I just check out or sample out of curiosity).
Watching: Nothing. Honestly, not interested at the moment and do not want to make time for it. Already very stimulated, especially visually.
Most Hours Logged Doing: Over the weekend, I went to a spa (hot spring pools) had dinner with a bestie (twice), recorded two women’s stories, played golf (third time in one week—not bad for a non-golfer), visited two different museums, went for a few walks, did some editing work, had dinner again, and rested (on Sunday) while spending as much time with my (former work) parents…boy did we laugh a lot!
Monday Morning Meditation: 9.15.25
Even when I am at my worst, if I stay connected, even if just by a thread, I have something to offer, not only to others, but also to myself.
Is there a topic you would like me to write about in a Monday Missive? Cover in a podcast episode? I am curious about what you are curious about and would love to hear from you so leave a comment below or drop me line.
So happy for you! I could highlight many sentences from your missive, but I won't. Beautifully written and 100x yesssss, let's goooo! <3
Hella, you’re amazing. I’m so proud of you and deeply admire what you’re doing. Returning to Santa Fe with such intention and walking through it on your own terms is so powerful.
What struck me most is how clearly this journey is for no one else but yourself - giving yourself space to revisit, release, and recognize how far you’ve come. That kind of integration, where old places no longer carry pain, is a true sign of healing.
Seeing you now, lighter, freer, having fun, and honoring your commitments to yourself is incredibly inspiring. You’re living proof that the thread never breaks - it only strengthens and expand.