I've been told on more than one occasion that I'm an intense person. I'm pretty black and white about how I feel for someone, and usually quite clear with them about that too. I'll mutter no apologies for that. I think you should feel passionately about things you care about--work, friendship, fashion, hugs, lust, dinner, your children, your animals, your music, love. I'm passionate and compassionate. I crave the opportunity to fulfill myself using those characteristics. When I'm stressed, frazzled beyond explanation, I try to think of things that hold great possibility, great hope, great optimism for perspective. I remember that the sun is always rising somewhere, and will be again here shortly. A new sunrise is a new day, a fresh chance to make things beautiful. I remember two lovely ladies in my life who are battling life altering diseases with both grace and dignity. They symbolize strength, and that there's even beauty in the weak moments of life. I think of the faces of the beautiful children I work with every day, they humble me with their resilience, their smiles, their light. I think of goodnight/good morning text messages, and how a smile creeps across my face knowing someone thought of me when they're fighting in or out of the safest place your body knows, sleep. I think of my two incredible parents, who despite their own adversities always kiss each other goodnight.
I'm at peace with whatever is behind and whatever comes ahead of me. Peace for me is about finding a place where despite chaos, work, and noise I can calm my racing heart.