Right now I am sitting on a couch in Ottawa hanging out until I go do my 2nd show tonight, see some shows, and hang out with a lot of hilarious and fun people (I have found my ideal job). I left Montreal two days ago, and sorry, New York City, but I think I’m in love. Anyways, today I am just checking in to introduce you to a dear friend of mine, Matthew Blake Williams. Matthew and I went to college together. He was my very first comedy partner. We’d do the Marty Cope & Bobby Mohan Culp characters at college events, and it was SO fun. 

Matthew is one of the most talented people I know across the board… And I’m very excited about his new endeavor! Here’s Matthew…

Blue initially asked me to write about how I was going to run a marathon. And run it I did. In January of 2011. In Carlsbad, California. It was awesome. The pain was… awesome. Here is a picture of me and all my awesome pain.

BUT – I procrastinated about writing about running a marathon.


Six months later, still no insightful essay on the process of become a Real Runner, even though I’ve already clocked an additional half marathon, plus another one on its way in August.

So I never wrote about running. Instead, I humbly submit to you today the thing I really want to do. (Hint: not running. Running is great and all, but that’s not the demon I need to stare down.)

Here it is…

I am a writer who doesn’t write.

There! Spoken! Confessed! Unburdened of oppressive secret!

It’s been over a year since anything substantial found its way from my head to the inked, printed, or digitized page. This is a problem, because writing is special and sacred to me. When I was a skinny boy catching crawdads in the creek of my parents’ property in the sticks of western North Carolina, I wrote about it.

When I was a fifth grader who still wet the bed and got bullied by John McGinnis in gym class every Tuesday and Thursday, I wrote about it.

When I was a pimply adolescent who bought some Valentine candy for my first girlfriend, Jenny Belding-Miller, and hid it in her locker because my knees were knocking even thinking about handing it over in person, I wrote about it.

When I was in high school playing Professor Henry Higgins in Asheville Christian Academy’s lauded production of My Fair Lady and took a fall down the stage stairs on opening night right smack dab in the middle of my most climactic fight with Eliza, I wrote about it.

When I was in college finally acknowledging that I was gayer than a Grey Goose cran-tini at a Palm Springs resort – and hating myself because of it – I wrote about it.

Sometimes what I wrote was (really pretty awful) poetry, sometimes prose, often just my stream-of-conscious thoughts in a journal. When the Internets were invented, it became blogs and MySpace entries. Most recently, I channeled my writing into lovely three-and-a-half minute songs that I played to emo high schoolers in suburban coffeehouses.

But life got serious, jobs got serious, relationships got way too serious, and before you know it, you’re on the verge of 30 just clocking time until you can take that really fun vacation or a rich relative you never knew about dies and leaves you his summer house in the Alps.

Then, on May 21, 2011, a funny thing happened. The world, which was supposed to end according to that Harold Camping fellow, didn’t.

May 21 also happened to be my 29th birthday. (Yes, my friends and I celebrated with a bar crawl themed around Britney Spears’ “Dancing ‘Til the World Ends,” and yes, I dressed like a slutty pimp. Beside the point.)

I realized that, since the world was still functioning properly, I could yet have another good forty or fifty years on it. Sixty if I’m lucky.

And I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend one more of those years not doing the thing that pulls at me, whispers to me, constantly and quietly beckons me to put a frickin’ pen to paper and write a book.

Here is a list of reasons why I’m afraid to write a book.

  • I don’t have enough education.
  • My life is pretty bland, really.
  • No one will read it.
  • What the hell am I gonna write about, laying on the beach in sunny San Diego?
  • It will never make me any money and I got bills, yo.
  • I’ve got nothing new to say.

Here is the reason why I’m writing it anyway.


Today I am a month into the process of writing my first novel. It could take five years. But if that’s true, it’s now only four years and eleven months.

If you want to see this endeavor unfold, you can do just that at This Novel Idea, which is another blog where I’m chronicling the process of being a first time novelist.

I’m pretty darn excited. I never wrote about the running. But I’ve finally written about the writing. It feels good to answer that little nagging voice (that is really just your heart of hearts) with a resounding “I’m doing it, dammit!”

And do it, dammit, I shall.


A sunny day in Montreal

And today it is very sunny!

I am in Montreal, Canada and it is beautiful. I’m on my 3rd full day here after arriving way late Tuesday night. I’m here to perform in the Montreal Fringe Festival, and do my solo show AM I BLUE.

The area that the festival is in is all around boulevard St-Laurent. A great street that reminds me of the East Village with French flair. And then all the little side streets are pieces of France. Beautiful old houses and apartment buildings with vines on the sides and winding staircases, a full array of colored brick, cobblestone streets, even the shape, the corner of the streets are beautiful restaurants and cafes.

Today is this immaculate weather, the sun is shining, and it’s the most comfortable 71 degrees. Or 21 degrees as it is described up here.

I’m in a little coffee shop where everything is in French, but it looks exactly like Starbucks. Well, what ya gonna do when you need some free WiFi. I’ve got a suitcase beside me because I’ve been temporarily displaced. Yep. The festivals have this great billeting system where you are able to stay with folks rather than paying for a hotel. Unfortunately my host had to kick me out for the weekend. (Turns out her aunt, who owns the apt, does not like her having couchsurfers. And her aunt decided she’d like to come to the apt this weekend!)

There’s enough to think about with postering, finding the best places to poster, handing out posters, perfecting the 30 second pitch, figuring out how to speak to people without being a total asshole (as French is the native Language, but everyone speaks English as well). “Bonjour! … So, I’m doing this show in the Fringe… By the way, can I sleep over?”

The people are incredibly friendly, kind, and interested in speaking to you and get to know you. There are Fringe parties every night and great chances to meet people and sell your show. I have to push myself a bit to do all the networking business. It’s so important. That’s how to get people to the show!

I bought this super sweet piece of luggage before I left. It’s a backpack/carry-on/strapped/rolly piece. And just the feeling of buying it felt SO GOOD.

So tomorrow night is opening night! My theater is a wonderful space. It’s right around the corner from the beer tent, which is the main gathering point for Fringers. It’s a red building that used to be a fire house, and it has beautiful ivy hanging around it. I had been told my venue may be way far away, and that was a big concern. I’m so happy that it is right in the center of everything.

More later. This coffee shop is a little too cozy. I should be strolling these streets (there’s a street fair outside) before heading to do more postering, postcarding, and drinking. (The three most important aspects of getting folks to your show.)

Not that different from NYC, really.

Lots of clouds today

Today I woke up with this feeling of darkness. I had dreams that are blurry now, I just remember those I care for leaving me, in silence. It is a reflection of some of my worst fears that I hide and chug down deep and try to ignore: this incessant feeling that there is something wrong with me. Wrong with my makeup as a person. Wrong with the choices I have made through out my life, that everyone else gets something that I clearly do not understand. Fears that I will not be truly loved, and beliefs that I must continually fix things about myself in order to be just a regular person living a regular life in the world.

And then there’s the reverse belief, that I am not regular, and do no want a regular life, that it is deeply important for me to follow this path and that it will get me somewhere. So it is the same belief in a slightly different light.

But that one still gets in the way when it comes to things like sustaining work and doing what I need to do in order to get where I want to get. Which includes just choosing where it is I want to get.

I spent time on Thursday with one of my dearest friends from childhood, Ann. We grew up together in church and have known each other our entire lives. Since both living in NYC for the past 7 years, we’ve grown closer and seen each other through our twenties. She is so close to my heart, and like a sister. She was teasing me for some of my outfits in high school, I teased her about her old crushes, and we were laughing, and crying too.

I have talked to a few old friends about this “journey” I am on. This journey towards self, not really enlightenment, but just a touch of personal enlightenment. I don’t need to understand how all of time, how all of peace and love work, but I would like to just know how to wake up feeling light as a feather on a regular basis, how to just want to work and want a family and allow myself the sweet stuff of life.

Some friends I saw in the fall asked me if I had considered anti-depressants.

Okay, now I can laugh at it, but in the moment I did cry. Yet again I felt misunderstood, as I looked at the concerned eyes of my loving friends. It didn’t seem like they thought I was doing the best things for myself, which is always a tough pill for me to swallow. The answer was no, i hadn’t, but I did consider it when I got back. Have I just been experiencing some clinical depression? I thought I had a much more noble cause at hand here.

I was speaking to Ann about how I’ve changed from high school, how my faith was so important to me when I was young and then I left it behind to be out in this land of searching, of “freedom”. And Ann said something that has really struck a chord with me: I think you are the same as you were in high school but you just have a different rule book.

And what she means is: In high school I was trying so hard to be a strong Christian, to do all the right things, to walk the right path, to read my Bible daily, to stay away from sin, to not do anything bad. I remember not dating a lot because deep down, I felt like I wasn’t ready. This was in college too. I was never ready. I needed to be stronger in myself. I needed to be stronger in the Lord.

And here I am, almost 30, saying the same things. I need to be stronger. I’m not ready. I may be dating an amazing guy, but still there is a belief—actually, a fear—that I am not good enough. That I am not good enough for a great career, or for a great future, (or a great present), or to just do SOMETHING great with my life. Or even something mediocre, but with a lot of laughs. That I just need to work a little more on myself, get rid of a few more negative beliefs.

Now my rule book is that of the enlightened woman, I spose. A little more Buddhist in nature than Christian. But it is all the same.

Am I more free than I was at 16, 17, 18? Do I embrace life more fully because I no longer put myself in a box? Or have I just found different boxes to put myself in?

I don’t know the answers to those questions.

But I know I am still driven by this yearning for freedom, complete freedom.

Is life easier or harder since returning from this profound experience?  I’m wondering… Because now I have some wisdom that I didn’t have before… Now I should know how to get out of my misery, and yet, being thrown back into the reality of my life, inner wisdom feels like a prisoner tied up and gagged in the trunk of my car. For some reason, my mind likes to roll in misery.  It’s a good thing that everything in life is impermanent!  Change is here in every moment. This is neither a blessing or a curse.  It just IS.

I’m writing about my experience after returning more than 3 days ago.  The truth is, the ride was bumpy, but by the end, I was glowing.  I felt full. I felt like I had gone on a quest to learn a hard lesson, and I was successful.  So many stories, I don’t know where to begin.  But, before I forget, I want to say that the goal now is NOT TO FORGET!!!  This experience was transformative for me.  Let me try to explain…

I felt like a warrior for truth, and I made sure I followed the rules as best as I could so that I got the most out of my precious time there.  On the other hand, I felt like a contestant on a show like the Biggest Loser bringing all of my will and determination to the ranch!  Many of my mind “wanderings” included made up slogans to amuse myself such as re-naming the experience, “Camp Vipassana – Meditate Your Ass Off!!!”  At least that was the T-Shirt we all should have been wearing.  Eleven hours a day?  Sitting in meditation?  There’s no way to describe what this is like until you do it… eleven hours a day.  4 AM wake-up bell?  Who does that?  I did!  I ripped myself out of my cozy upper bunk every single morning to go and “meditate my ass off.”  Most mornings, the dirt path from the dorms to the meditation hall was not lit and I felt like I was on the dark side of the moon.  Sitting still, I struggled with my wandering mind – even when I had moments of intense concentration, all of a sudden, I would hear a song playing in the background of my head, and I would realize that that song had been there for the last 5 minutes.  (“Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto” was on repeat half the time.)  There were times when I wanted to get up and bash my head into the wall or scream and then say “tension breaker!” but then, low and behold, I learned a huge life lesson.  Patience.  It is a virtue!  I always said that as a joke, and I always thought of myself as a patient person with others, but when you spend 11 hours of mind examination a day, you see that there is no perfect patience with the self.  There is a lot of frustration.  Madness.  Monkey mind.  This is what our teacher, S.N. Goenka, would keep repeating.  He repeated a lot of things, and I am grateful for that.  “Start with a calm and quiet mind.  Work diligently.  Work patiently and persistently.  Work ardently.”  He was a great coach.  🙂  So, I eventually began to work at whatever pace was natural for me, but still diligently.  It takes patience to recognize that your mind wanders every 2 seconds and then diligence and persistence to start again and again and again.  I saw the fruit, though!  Each day there was small improvement.  I’ve never worked so hard at one thing in my entire life.  I remember Olia telling me it’s like a rite of passage.  I agree.  For me, it was.  I feel like I can walk taller now and do anything and everything I commit to my attention.

I understand why they call it a meditation ‘practice.’  It truly is a practice.  You have to work it, man. The key is to sit your butt down and be a statue for one hour.  Whatever happens within is okay.  If you struggle with yourself for one hour, it’s okay.  The intention is there along with patience.  But that hurdle… getting up to get down, so to speak, is a challenge.  The first morning back, I set my alarm for 5:45 AM to wake up for a 6-7AM sitting.  I managed to stick to that for exactly one morning.  The next morning, I woke up 20 minutes later than the goal and still sat for an hour, but just not on schedule.  This morning, I woke up an hour later and meditated for 3 minutes before giving up and sleeping on the couch.  My excuse is a good one though.  Our precious Matthew Brown Jackson, our cat son, has been really sick for the past 3 months.  I found him snuggled up cozy on my meditation blanket this morning.  He rarely ventures away from his usual 2 spots, so I didn’t have the heart to move him.  Instead, I tried meditating on the couch, but that just doesn’t cut it for me.  😦

There is a lot of work to be done and I need to accept that this 10 day course was not a quick fix by any means.  I must continue to work every day… diligently, patiently and persistently, and aaarrrrdently….The lot of us who have started walking the noble path of Dhamma have only taken a few baby steps.  It’s a lifelong commitment, and I must understand this.  Enlightenment could take millions more lifetimes.  This thought helps in my sittings, actually.  An hour first felt like 20 hours, but now, it’s speeding up.  I think to myself, “There is plenty of time, plenty of time,” and poof, there goes an hour.  In that sense, I have come a long way!  Hooray!

May all beings be happy and hard-working because, P.S.  Happiness takes hard work!

Peace and love to all!


A couple days after returning from my meditation course, I felt completely exhausted. I allowed myself a couple days to rest…  mostly. You know, besides catching up with emails, voicemails, texts, important Things To Do, bills to pay, etc. etc. Okay, so, a few hours to really rest.

And, Wednesday I discovered I was ill, and it is stress- and fatigue-related. You can imagine my surprise! After going to a meditation retreat??? This is what happens?? So I’ve had to cancel work and all social engagements and am basically spending all my time at home in bed catching up on Glee and 30 Rock. (I just finished Tina Fey’s book this morning. Once she gets into improv, it starts getting good!)

So, I really can only laugh. Because now, I am really forced to relax. I mean, truly learn the art of relaxation. My body has demanded that I rest and only rest. Looking back, I can see how I didn’t take care of my body. Taking my New York habits of “pummelling through” with me to Vipassana did not quite do the trick.

My body never wanted to get up for those 4 AM wake up calls at Vipassana. (They don’t call them “optional” but no one drags you out of bed in the morning. It’s actually your call to make.)

The first two days, I really went for it. And spent those two-hour sitting periods trying to stay awake. I had trouble falling asleep at night so this added to the pain of attempting to wake up a few hours later. The third day, I decided to sleep in. And felt like a fresh faced bunny going in to breakfast at 6:30, showering after, feeling nice & bright eyed & bushy-tailed for the 8am meditation. I felt guilty. Who am I to feel rested? I’m here to work! For the rest of the week, it was a battle. My roommates launched out of bed at 4am to brush their teeth and go meditate. So of course, I should too! It became sketch comedy for me. One morning I went to the meditation hall at 4:30, only to return to my room a half hour later. No one was in there… maybe they still thought I was in the hall meditating! I cozily got under the covers and went back to sleep. Minutes later, not one but two roommates return, preferring to meditate in the room this morning. When I awoke at 6:30, there they still sit–STOICLY, meditating!!!

Another day, I decide, okay—I will meditate in my room! At 4:30 I get up and sit on my bed. I fall over asleep. I feel so embarrassed—it looks so easy for my roommates. Some form or another of this routine follows for the rest of the 10 days.

My body clearly needed more rest. I did not give my body rest because I feared what my roommates would think.

And guess what I found out at the end of the week? They both said that they had the best meditations at 4:30am. They felt the clearest headed. They had more trouble later in the day. I was trying to keep up with the rhythms of someone else’s body, not my own!

Now my body is forcing me to really learn to listen to it. All it wants is rest.

So, after tending very dearly to my spirit and mind, now I tend to my body. I hope that all this is teaching me how to do all three of these things in whatever I am doing. And I must say, my spirit and mind are wholeheartedly enjoying all of this Glee and 30 Rock too.

I am back from 12 days away from the world. No Internet, no phone, no contact with outside life. For 10 days I was in silence learning Vipassana meditation.

I was so, so scared to go and do this.

And I am so, so happy that I did.

Oh, there is so much I’d like to share about this! From the challenges of sitting (meditating), to the beautiful moments in between, to the amazing and supportive center, to the details of this technique, to the joys of silence for a week, to the ups and downs I felt all week long, I don’t know where to begin.

I went in expecting extreme suffering, with an extreme breakthrough of bliss at the end. Thankfully, neither of these were true. For me. One of the keystones of this practice is that it is based on your own personal experience. It is not connected to any religion—it is a universal technique which can be used by everyone to purify the mind. So, after reading up and hearing others’ experiences, I had certain expectations. So what I describe is purely my experience, as it is different for everyone.

From Day 1, I was challenged. I did not know how I would make it through the week. The days are so long, beginning at 4:30 am, and filled only with meditation. No books, no writing, no conversations are allowed. As the days passed, I understood why all this is so. All other distractions have been removed to give you the full opportunity to learn this practice, and live like a nun or monk for 10 days. Being in silence amongst a group of other women (men and women are separated) proved to be a huge blessing as we all undertook this journey. We were not alone in what we were doing, but we were granted our own special space to go through this learning on our own. The week became a very special time for me and myself. I can’t say enough good things about the center I went to—Dhamma Dhara, in Shelbourne, MA. It is run with such love and mindfulness. Down to the tiniest detail, they have your best interests in mind. The food is all prepared by volunteers who have taken the course, and it is delicious and healthy. When the bell rings for mealtime, we enter the dining hall, and it as if little elves have come in and let us the gift of food. And, being in silence, mealtime for me became time to sit there and really enjoy my food. Breakfast is at 6:30, lunch is at 11am, and 5pm is teatime. No dinner. (But you do get fruit.) My body adjusted fast, and this also was supportive of the practice. You can’t meditate on a full stomach. I learned this fast and was not tempted to overeat at either of the meals.

This technique really resonates with me. The mind, I learned, is actually full of love and compassion. But through life, we pick up all of these negativities and stuggles and pains which get lodged into our minds. This work of focusing purely on your body’s sensations purifies the mind and pulls out those negativies by the root! It is work of training the mind, of sharpening the mind, of clearing out all that is in the way of the overflow of love and compassion that exists beneath everything else.

The course is taught by S.N. Goenke, all via audio and video, with assistant teachers in the room to answer questions and guide the day. And this is a wonderful man. Each evening we watched discourses, and it felt like movie time. We could stop working and enjoy his teachings.

The hardest day for me was Day 9. Someone else mentioned that this was the best day for them. Some days I felt like I was getting it, and I couldn’t wait to go home and share my experience. Other days I was doubtful and frustrated and could only think about pizza and wine and my friends back home. Day 9, I had expected to feel so clear-headed. I expected to have some huge blissful out-of-body experience. And there I was, still just trying to bring my mind back to my body. I had to let go of my own expectations and cravings for a certain experience and accept where I was and what it was. This turns out to be a large part of the practice, and what I am taking from it.

He says a lot how people are smiling on Day 10. How the whole week will be worth it because on Day 10 you will feel so happy. When the silence was broken in the morning and we began transitioning back, I felt disappointed. I’m not smiling! Am I supposed to feel happier? Did this not work on me? Did I do it right? I’m still playing some worries in my head!

I wasn’t ready to be out of silence. I took a long walk through the trees in the back, still content only conversing with nature. A woman passed me who had her phone. My first words: “They gave us our phones back?” The woman replied back with an accent. I never would have guessed. I slowly ventured into the main area, and saw a group of women on the ground talking and laughing. Oh no! People have already made friends! It’s too late for me! Then one of the girls looked up and smiled at me. I relaxed. It’s okay. This isn’t junior high.

As I began to speaking with the other women there, that’s when I discovered the quiet joy that had been unveiled this week.

And the smile.

I did find myself smiling. Smiling from a place of joy. Laughing like I laughed in high school as a few of us were making jokes about the symphony of farts that took place in the meditation hall all week. Another thing i did not foresee: the bodily functions I’d be hearing all week! When we had our next “sit,” as each meditation is called, and one of the men on the other side of the room farted (for the millionth time), I could hold it in no longer. I started giggling. The rest of the women began giggling too. We were able to compose ourselves but then again I burst out giggles. Which set off the rest of the women again. The assistant teacher calmly asked us to please compose ourselves. I spent the next 20 minutes trying not to laugh. It was a beautiful moment to share with the other women in the room. We’d worked so hard all week, and could finally enjoy a laugh together. To laugh like that, to have to hold my nose and work harder than I’d worked all week to not laugh was the most gratifying experience of the entire week.

Now, my real work begins: keeping up this practice on a daily basis.

Jamie is on Day 5 today! She is almost halfway done. Keep it up Jamie! Sending you lots of love and light!

Hello darlings. My name is Stephanie St.Claire and I’m madly in love with Elizabeth Blue. Ya heard right. She’s got some kick-ass moxie, this one. She asked me to guest post this week and I’m doing it, dammit.

I am a Situational Counselor and Lifestyle Strategist, writer, spiritual mentor, and diehard life enthusiast. I write a blog called BLISSBOMBED.com and I help people get their shit together.

So let’s talk break ups. I have gone through some sucky break ups and I have made them suck harder by doing A LOT of the self-sabotaging below. When you’ve just won the sorrow jackpot, a lot of this stuff makes sense. It makes you feel better temporarily. But doing this crap only delays your healing, makes you look like a psycho, and worries your mom. Stop it.

How To Make Your Breakup Suck Harder

1. Keep getting back together. Seems obvious, but this suck-harder pitfall wears a costume called “hanging out as friends.” It includes going to dinner, going to the movies, meeting for a drink, Netflixing, or going to his cousin’s wedding. The only thing this does is reinforce the emotional attachment that used to live inside of a commitment. Your psyche goes through hell as it tries to accept that there is no relationship, while your body gets flooded with endorphins as you hug good-bye.

2. Keep perpetuating the story in your head that you were true soul mates and you are the only one that can really understand him. Listen attentively to your inner social worker who feels compassion for him in this “confusing time” and knows he just needs some extra understanding and a cookie. Refuse to accept that he surveyed all the awesome soul-mateness and still walked out your door.

3. Text him to see if he’s okay. Text him to check in. Text him to say you got the job. Text him to say you’d still consider being friends. Text him to see if he got your last text. Text him to ask if he can help you move your couch next Saturday. Lock yourself in that airless chamber of expectation….waiting for him to respond. Lie to yourself and say you don’t care if he texts back. Wake up at 2 a.m. and check your phone.

4. Use media to your disadvantage: Make him a mixed CD of your old songs and throw in a zinger like “Bulletproof” by LaRoux or any song by Sarah McLachlan. Send him funny YouTube videos he’d like. Email links that will be helpful for his latest project. Send a picture of you looking hot, now that you’ve been on a diet of tears and hot tea for two weeks.

5. Stay in touch with his mom. Call his friends just to say hi. If you listen carefully you can probably get clues as to what he’s doing. Stalk his Facebook. Check his Friend’s List to see if there are any new female faces. It’s all the same: Keep his circle inside your circle.

6. Bad mouth him to others. Every time you create him with your language, you are creating an aberration of him in the room. He gets invited back into your life the very same way he was invited in when you were creating him with love and excitement….you are conjuring energetically. Love and hate are two sides of the SAME coin. (Hint: Your goal is neutrality.)

7. Torture yourself with “what-if” scenarios. Make a religion out of your star-crossed-loveredness, complete with candle-lit altar. Fantasize about him waking up and realizing he lost the best damn thing that ever happened to him. If he texts you to say hi, text him right back. Or make him wait 3 hours and then text him. Either way, just text him.

8. His stuff is at your place. Your stuff is at his. This can only be solved one way: The In-Person Exchange. Really? Or maybe you could make arrangements with a friend to drop his crap off. And maybe that friend wouldn’t mind picking your stuff up. Or maybe you could just throw his toothbrush out, cuz those are like, 3 bucks at Walgreen’s.

9. Constantly create long, anguished speeches in your head that let him know exactly how he’s tortured you. Imagine him feeling bad. Imagine him FINALLY coming to his senses, and concocting a plan to win you back. Don’t imagine him going out with his friends all weekend, moving on with his unrestricted life.

10. And if you REALLY want to make your breakup suck harder tell yourself that you will never love like that again. This is a good one, because when you are in heartbreak hell, that feels like the truth. And the thought of loving someone else makes you sick. Like the 3 margaritas you drank this morning.

How to Make Your Breakup Suck Less:

1. Don’t see him or talk to him for 60 days. If you could accidently run into him at the gym, grocery store, dry cleaner, or route to work- change your gym, grocery store, dry cleaner, and route to work. I know, I know, it’s not fair. But do it.

2. Join a new gym or sign up for a 5K. This is about giving your grief a physical outlet. Endorphins take a breakUP and make it a breakOVER.

3. Go out with your friends, both male and female. Do not dominate the evening with your break up drama. Ask them questions about what THEY’RE doing, what projects THEY’RE working on, how THEIR crazy family is doing. Something magical happens when you leave your own world for a while and get into others’.

4. Remember he’s not hiding at the bottom of that wine bottle. Drink lots of water, give yourself a salt scrub, get a pedicure, and kick Uncle Ben and Uncle Jerry to the curb.

5. Read funny/inspiring blogs (THIS ONE and Rocket Shoes are two of my faves), create a kick-ass collage of your new life, and write a letter to your future husband. Create a fresh relationship with your faith. Press into God. Write down the wisdom you are learning from all this.

If you are struggling, and need a hand out of the ditch, email me. I would love to talk to you.

With much love,

Stephanie xXo

Email: stclaire.stephanie@gmail.com

You can check out my blog here: BLISSBOMBED.com

Join me on Facebook: Stephanie StClaire: Blissbombed