Happy Birthday, Mama!

This morning Facebook notified me of my mother’s birthday. I know, Facebook. I know.

She would’ve been 84.

“I’ve got to go. I’m staying with friends,” she once said on a visit in my dreams. Her eyes twinkled, and her smile lit up the room. She was healthy, vibrant, and FULL of life. That was about three years ago not long after she left us.

“I love that, Mama. I bet you have lots of friends up there,” I said.

And then, the paradox—she lives, right in my heart.

1972. How adorable is she?

Be Someone II

There’s an iconic sign on a railroad overpass just north of downtown Houston. It says…

I often think about what that means.

There’s an iconic Xeroxed copy of my 10-year-old face tucked away in a long-forgotten cardboard box. Lucky for 54-year-old me, I have the digital image. I often think about that little girl. Clearly, she has always wished for me to be unapologetically me…

That little girl inside me long ago learned the power of visualization. Inside our head, we saw the roundoff back handsprings and the back flips before we made it happen. That little girl is alive and well. She reminds me of the magic of vision and dreams. She wishes me a life lived to the fullest and says, “Let go of the past and step into who we’re becoming—wiser and kinder and stronger.” She nudges me to forgive those who hurt me and wish them well. She roots for me to be an example of what is possible and cherish every moment.

Perhaps being someone is about embracing, trusting, and standing up for our authentic self, speaking our truth, aging gracefully, walking our unique path, sharing our gifts, taking care of our needs—body, mind, and spirit—believing and dreaming, learning and growing, carrying an abundance of love, seeking the good in others, understanding that humans have faults. These are the things I’m learning at age 54 and somehow the things I’ve always known.

Homes, Dreams, and Dream Homes

The Detroit Flag with the Detroit Motto*

We hope for better things. It shall rise from the ashes.

Detroit motto

I confess. I have an HGTV addiction. The channel features gifted home designers, spa-inspired bathrooms, cutting-edge kitchens, beckoning outdoor spaces, and such smart usage of space. By day, I watch for the ideas. By night, I dream of hiring professional help.

I have a soft spot for a show called Bargain Block. Partners in renovation and life, Keith and Evan take on decrepit Detroit houses—often two at a time and the worst on the same block. Then they make dream homes come true. Keith is the creative genius, and Evan has a PhD in Physics. Together they have good chemistry and laughs that warm my heart. When I have nothing better to do, I catch back-to-back re-runs on Thursday afternoons.

During Season 3, Episode 7, the guys buy a long-abandoned house for $4500. Dead branches fill the living room. A tree literally grows through the floorboards. They joke about landscaping the inside of the house and renovate for $80,000, doing all of the work themselves. The neighborhood eyesore rises from the ashes. The neighbors watch the transformation, delighted by the impact on their street. At the open house, potential buyers ooh-and-ahh and say things like, “This is so Detroit*” and “I can see myself pulling up after a long day’s work and being proud to call this place home.” Keith and Evan receive asking price. $130,000. Win. Win.

Sure. I could tell you all about my dream home. It would be more fun to chat with you over coffee. I bet together we could dream up the dreamiest home. Then we could solve all the world’s problems before coming back to reality. I might tell you about the time back in 2017 when a flood displaced my family, my husband and me, our son and our dog, and how we lived in a La Quinta for ten months while rebuilding home. It took a devastating loss to realize—things are just things. Often times, wishing for what I don’t have stands in the way of appreciation for what I do have. And slowly, I’m learning lessons in acceptance and contentment for what is.

HOPE, PEACE, JOY, and LOVE— these are the four pillars of a dream home.

Homes and Dreams and Dream Homes can come true anywhere.

Be Someone


I count on one hand
my visits to Houston
before making the move
before my entire life changed.

On a Union Pacific bridge
while driving south on 45,
there’s a sign.

Some call it graffiti.
I call it gritty.

Be Someone, it says.

It’s more than a sign,
The skyline stands stong behind.
A gateway for opportunity.
A beacon for possibility.
A call to action visible only
on the way in,
again and again
like a mantra.

Be someone.

Be someone.

Be Someone.


Houston’s iconic landmark has been painted and repainted.
Photos courtesy of https://www.besomeoneco.com/store/
Again.
And again.

Inspired by poets Gail Mazur, Langston Hughes, Gwendolyn Zepeda, Deborah D.E.E.P. Mouton and their poems about Houston, along with my good friend Dr. Doni Wilson who taught an outstanding Writespace workshop last weekend. I left buoyed by my possibilities.

Bring it, H-town.

Atlas of the Heart

A Book Review

While traveling for the holidays, I downloaded the audio of Brené Brown’s latest book Atlas of the Heart, Mapping Meaningful Connection and the Language of Human Experience. I drove and listened and clicked the button that flags the important stuff. Upon finishing, I counted my bookmarks, 113, and laughed out loud. Throughout January, I relistened to those parts, bought more hard copies for friends, and flipped pages before parting with these gifts. I took notes as if I were in school and ended up with close to 6000 words in a Word document. I reread my notes, highlighted my best takeaways, and can’t stop having conversations about this book. Brown and her team of researchers explore eighty-seven emotions and experiences (87!) that define what it means to be human. Writers need this, right? Doesn’t everyone?

I grew up in a family that didn’t talk about feelings. Maybe this is normal. I remember crying (quite often) to my mother. She would hug me and say, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” I said time and again. Call it a childish lack of self-awareness. Maybe it’s normal not to understand how we’re feeling. I’m curious how often we deny the truth. At some point, shouldn’t we be able to name our emotions in connection to our experience? How else can we let go of the baggage we carry?

“Our hurt feelings are typically experienced simultaneously with other emotions, such as sadness, anger, anxiety, jealousy, or loneliness. As a result, they don’t always feel the same way, as most other emotions do…Our reactions to hurt feelings can be self-blaming, or we might cry, lash out, or retaliate by trying to hurt the other person, and/or seek out other relationships to find comfort. When reparation doesn’t seem possible, hurt feelings can turn into anger or sadness.”

Brené Brown p. 200

Brené explains my tears as normal along with other common reactions. I find this helpful in understanding not only myself but also others. We’re all prone to hurt feelings (that carry a range of emotions), but a brave, honest, simple, vulnerable way to deal with them is to say, “My feelings are hurt.” I could have used this information earlier in my life, but it’s never too late to practice.

Brown’s work defines the nuance between awe and wonder, joy and happiness, guilt and shame, jealousy and envy. All topics are easily located through the table of contents. Before writing this book, Brown believed resentment was part of the anger family. Research revealed that resentment is part of envy.

“Resentment is the feeling of frustration, judgment, anger, “better than,” and/or hidden envy related to perceived unfairness or injustice. It’s an emotion that we often experience when we fail to set boundaries or ask for what we need, or when expectations let us down because they were based on things we can’t control, like what other people think, what they feel, or how they’re going to react.”

Brené Brown p. 33

Brown taught me when I start to feel resentful, instead of thinking about what the other person is doing “wrong” or what they should” be doing, I should think, What do I need but am afraid to ask for?

There’s so much good psychology here. It proved an impossible feat to choose my top ten takeaways. So here are just fifteen more:

15.

“Researchers believe that rumination is a strong predictor of depression, makes us more likely to pay attention to negative things, and zaps our motivation to do the things that would improve how we feel” (79).

14.

“Anger is a catalyst. Holding on to it will make us exhausted and sick. Internalizing anger will take away our joy and spirit; externalizing anger will make us less effective in our attempts to create change and forge connection. It’s an emotion that we need to transform into something life-giving: courage, love, change, compassion, justice” (224).

13.

“While some people disagree with me, I firmly believe that regret is one of our most powerful emotional reminders that reflection, change, and growth are necessary. In our research, regret emerged as a function of empathy. And, when used constructively, it’s a call to courage and a path toward wisdom” (53).

12.

“Shame is the birthplace of perfectionism. Perfectionism is not striving to be our best or working toward excellence. Healthy striving is internally driven. Perfectionism is externally driven by a simple but potentially all-consuming question: What will people think?” (142)…

“Research shows that perfectionism hampers success. In fact, it often sets you on the path to depression, anxiety, addiction, and life paralysis” (144-145).

11.

“The heart of compassion is really acceptance. The better we are at accepting ourselves and others, the more compassionate we become. It’s difficult to accept people when they are hurting us or taking advantage of us or walking all over us. This research has taught me that if we really want to practice compassion, we have to start by setting boundaries and holding people accountable for their behavior” (128).

10.

“Empathy is an other-focused emotion. It draws our attention outward, toward the other person’s experience. When we are truly practicing empathy, our attention is fully focused on the other person and trying to understand their experience. We only have thoughts of self in order to draw on how our experience can help us understand what the other person is going through.

Shame is an egocentric, self-involved emotion. It draws our focus inward. Our only concern with others when we are feeling shame is to wonder how others are judging us. Shame and empathy are incompatible. When feeling shame, our inward focus overrides our ability to think about another person’s experience. We become unable to offer empathy. We are incapable of processing information about the other person, unless that information specifically pertains to us” (141).

9.

“Contempt is one of the most damaging of the four negative communication patterns that predict divorce. The other three are criticism, defensiveness, and stonewalling….

Contempt, simply put, says, ‘I’m better than you. And you are lesser than me’” (226-228).

8.

“Researcher Frank Fujita writes, ‘Social comparisons can make us happy or unhappy. Upward comparisons can inspire or demoralize us, whereas downward comparisons can make us feel superior or depress us. In general, however, frequent social comparisons are not associated with life satisfaction or the positive emotions of love and joy but are associated with the negative emotions of fear, anger, shame, and sadness’” (21).

7.

“Across my research, I define connection as the energy that exists between two people when they feel seen, heard, and valued; when they can give and receive without judgment; and when they derive sustenance and strength from the relationship…

The RTC (Relational-Cultural Theory from the Stone Center at Wellesley) sees disconnections as normative and inevitable in relationships; they occur when one person misunderstands, invalidates, excludes, humiliates, or injures the other person in some way. Acute disconnections occur frequently in all relationships. If they can be addressed and reworked, they are not problematic; in fact, they become places of enormous growth” (169).

6.

“Belonging is being accepted for you. Fitting in is being accepted for being like everyone else…True belonging doesn’t require us to change who we are; it requires us to be who we are” (162).

5.

Researchers Alice Huang and Howard Berenbaum “found that people who are more secure are more willing to be vulnerable with others. If we are comfortable with our own weaknesses (self-secure), we are more successful at being emotionally close to others and more likely to have healthy relationships” (174).

4.

“Connection, along with love and belonging, is why we are here, and it is what gives purpose and meaning to our lives. Shame is the fear of disconnection—it’s the fear that something we’ve done or failed to do, an ideal that we’ve not lived up to, or a goal that we’ve not accomplished makes us unworthy of connection” (137).

3.

“On one of the instruments that measures contentment, 71 percent of the variance in life satisfaction is measured by a single item: “All things considered, how satisfied are you with your life as a whole these days?”

This leads to the age-old question: If we’re not satisfied with our life as a whole, does this mean we need to go get and do the stuff that will make us satisfied so we can be content, or does this mean we stop taking for granted what we have so we can experience real contentment and enoughness?” (211).

2.

“It appears that many of the emotions that are good for us—joy, contentment, and gratitude, to name a few—have appreciation in common…

There is overwhelming evidence that gratitude is good for us physically, emotionally, and mentally. There’s research that shows that gratitude is correlated with better sleep, increased creativity, decreased entitlement, decreased hostility and aggression, increased decision-making skills, decreased blood pressure—the list goes on…

Gratitude is an emotion that reflects our deep appreciation for what we value, what brings meaning to our lives, and what makes us feel connected to ourselves and others” (214).

1.

“Our connection with others can only be as deep as our connection with ourselves. If I don’t know and understand who I am and what I need, want, and believe, I can’t share myself with you. I need to be connected to myself, in my own body, and learning what makes me work” (272).

Books and More Books

I need a dedicated bookshelf for the books I’ve not read. I scanned my home in search of them, pulling them from nightstand stacks and windowsills and the top of my desk. There are more boxed up from my classroom collection. Some were highly recommended and some were gifts. Some I bought and some were free. Meanwhile, I’m finishing two. The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store by James McBride (historical fiction) and The Untethered Soul by Michael A. Singer (spiritual nonfiction). I’m enjoying my time with both. I don’t read fast.

Eenie meenie minie moe.
I read half of Ducks, Newburyport long ago.
(Stream-of-consciousness and a single long sentence.)
Would you give any of these books a go?
Maybe you can judge a book by its cover.
In brown paper, this one said, “Yo!”
Lavender didn’t match my stacks.
If I ever publish, good to know.

Yesterday I stumbled across a list of “600 Books to Be Considered Very Well-Read.” If you’ve read 600 books, in my humble opinion, you’re well-read. I’m working toward that, but I counted 120 books read from the list and many authors I want to read— like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and William Faulkner, E. M. Forster and Neil Gaiman, Kazuo Ishiguro and C. S. Lewis. I want to read more Virginia Woolf, Haruki Murakami, Sylvia Plath, Markus Zuzak, Toni Morrison, Vladimir Nabokov, Dickens, Bradbury, and the Brontë sisters. Then there are those times when people say, “You’ve got to read this.” And a new book usurps them all.

And They Named Her Crystal

It was December 30th, 1969, a snowy winter day. My parents planned to name their newborn baby David, Jr.

“Surprise! It’s a girl.”

The sun glistened on the icicles hanging from the hospital window, and my new name crystalized on the spot.

Photo by Ir Solyanaya on Pexels.com

Or perhaps not quite on the spot.

Ultrasounds weren’t common practice in those days. According to lore, my mother was the most enormous pregnant woman on record; therefore, I must be a boy. After giving birth, she was rushed to surgery for an emergency hysterectomy and removal of a basketball-sized uterine tumor. We could’ve lost my mother that day. God had other plans.

For the Love of Friends

I think it was 2004 when I saw a counselor for the first time. I cried through every appointment telling her the very worst of my stories. After more than enough of my tears, she said, “Don’t you have any friends?”

And I cried, “Noooo!”

This was the moment when everything changed. She gave me the best advice of my life when she said, “Crystal, you’ve got to open up to people.”

Stage left. Re-Enter Denise. 2008. I’ve known this adorable blonde since age 5 when I crashed her 5th birthday. My neighbor up the street also turned 5 that day, so together we hopped from one party to the next. 1975. As girls we shared classrooms, friends, and small-town Oklahoma. She attended my wedding. 1989. Then I moved, and so did she. As women, we found each other again at our high school reunion. 2008. She lived nearby. Over time we earned the rights to each other’s deep-dark secrets and kept them under lock and key with chains and bolts as if Fort Knox.

Stage right. Re-Enter Pamela. 2011. This raven-haired beauty graced the entrance of my 5th-grade classroom, and I was mesmerized. 1980. Friends through junior high, those angsty years, and high school. After that, we always stayed in touch. She sent me baby booties for Drew from Notre Dame, where she fought like the Irish for her studies. 1989. She sent me letters from Calcutta, India when she studied abroad. She has lived a charmed life all over the map. Still, we saw each other from time to time and talked on the phone every once in a while. When I remarried Kody, she flew from Florida for our celebration. 2011. We had the opportunity to open up for the first time in a while. Eventually, she moved to Texas. 2016.

Plano, TX 2011

Stage left. Re-Enter Starla. 2015. On the playground in 2nd grade, I met a precious brunette with gold stars in her green eyes. 1977. By 6th, we talked on the phone for hours, and she had this uncanny way of sensing my emotions in times of distress whether we were together or not. 1981. Through the years, we practiced make-up, hair, and cheerleading. She served cake at my wedding and snuggled my babies. We still talk for hours here and there, and she still feels my energy across 1500 miles. She flew in from California. 2015. Starla knows me at my worst and loves me anyway.

Plano, TX 2015
Dallas, TX 2016
Austin, TX 2017
Oklahoma City, OK 2018
Austin, TX 2019

Stage right. Enter Cheri. 2017. Across the fifth-grade hallway, I remember the flash of the blue-eyed blond with dimples for days and a smile in her heart. 1980. I always wanted to know Cheri. In 9th grade, we both liked the same boy, our future friendship delayed once more. 1984. After high school, she married him. Years later after I lost much to a flood, Cheri mailed me a gift and the kindest of notes. In that moment I felt loved. 2017. A few years later, Cheri invited me as part of a girls’ trip to Telluride, where we celebrated lifelong friendships and our 50th birthdays. 2020. I don’t take for granted our hometown where we grew up or the friendships that grew from seeds planted there.

Telluride, CO 2020
Ixtapa, Mexico 2021
Houston, TX 2024

This past weekend, Denise, Pamela, and I checked into a historic hotel in downtown Houston. On Sunday morning, Pamela and I attended Lakewood Church. Denise wasn’t feeling up to the mega-church experience and stayed back. That’s the best part about bestiesbeing completely ourselveswithout fear of judgement.

Meanwhile Pamela and I sat on the fifth row as Joel Osteen said, “Write your vision.” He gave some examples, like “I am healthy and whole” and “My son is free from addiction.”

And so I wrote down my innermost, unspeakable desires.

“Then pair your affirmation with a scripture,” he said.

And so I did.

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'”

Jeremiah 29:11

Friendships take time. And now, I always leave my friends feeling loved and connected, uplifted and thankful like miracles are afoot. And to think how I just needed to open up.

The Intention

For years I’ve gone back and forth on New Year’s Resolutions—to make them or not. According to Ohio State University, research suggests that only 9% of Americans who make resolutions complete them, 23% of people quit their resolution by the end of the first week, and 43% quit by the end of January.  

I’ve jumped on the Word-of-the-Year train—and off again. I have no problem in changing my mind. Change shows flexibility and growth. I like growth.

For 2024?

I believe in—

  • the power of intention
  • do-overs
  • progress over perfection
  • kindness and compassion for self and others
  • one day at a time
  • asking God for help with all of the above

I like the idea of the SMART goal. Is it—

  • Specific?
  • Measurable?
  • Achievable?
  • Realistic/Relevant?
  • Timely/Time-Bound?

To kick off this year, I’m taking on the 30-Day AB Challenge and Dry January. Week One. Check. Before February One, I’ll re-assess. The specificity. The measurability. The achievability. The realism and relevance. The timeliness.

Back in November, I downloaded an app called Reframe: Drink Less and Thrive. It provides daily science-backed reading about the psychology of drinking habits and effects of alcohol on the body. During the first week, this daily drinker (that’s me) had two alcohol-free days. The next week two more.

Progress.

Then I gave up. I made an excuse to stop tracking my drinks for my anniversar[ies], the holiday season, and my birthday month without guilt. I postponed my cut-back journey and set my intention on being alcohol free in January.

I’m 54. Since age 18, outside of two pregnancies, I’ve had three other sober months, maybe four. After my breast cancer diagnosis in August 2022, I became aware of the CDC’s (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention) guidelines for alcohol. One drink or less in a day for women. Two for men. I may have abstained another month before the next glass of wine. But—I thought, “How ridiculous!” I had no desire to quit.

After trying to cut back a few times, I said to myself, “Crystal, you are the ridiculous one. You only have one body. Why not treat it with tender-loving care?” It took me 54 years to realize none is easier than one (at least for me), and I became sober curious. Suddenly, I found myself asking God for help. And lo and behold, I feel the divine help. I’m not ready to resolve that I will never have another drink, but I intend to keep praying for myself. So far. So good. I believe in one day at a time.

May you experience health, hope, peace, joy, and love in 2024!

A friend texted me the following, and I am forwarding to you:

Hey! I’ve been using Reframe App. It is helping me cutback on drinking, using neuroscience 🧠. All you need is 15 minutes a day!

Sign up and get 1-Month Free Trial for your subscription by going to this link:

https://tryreframeapp.com/referral?code=YS87FJ

The Here and Now

This morning I awoke to the sunlight streaming through the windows and a patio calling my name. I grabbed my book from the nightstand and walked outside.

But the day is too beautiful as the waves roll in. I can’t quite wrap my mind around 2023, at least not here in this place, and I’m not quite ready to think about 2024. I think I still have time.

Nothing lasts forever, neither the good nor the not-so-good. So I’ll enJOY the here and now. The warmth of the sun. The sound of the surf. The delicious breeze and my flying friends. The peace of this moment and a satisfying ending for the year.