Are You Free? But, Stuck?

Barney Moss

Dearest Ones,

You may not know this, but pretty soon after I started writing for you, I crafted a little essay about you – a description of whom I thought you would be – whom I wanted to attract to our home here.

You can read about her here: Stephanie’s So Very Stuck

Here’s the thing: you don’t have to sit with the pain and confusion of wanting something but not knowing what that thing is or how to get it.

It’s like the itch you can’t quite scratch.

But I can.

I know what this feels like. I was there for a very long time. Twenty years, in fact.

For the rest of August, I’m offering a few Unstuck Intensives for up to FOUR of you. These are VIP half-day retreats where we get

CLEAR about what you want
STRATEGIC about how to get there the fastest way, and
SMART – we create a 90-day plan for implementation.

And here’s the thing – if you can meet in August, I’m giving a deep deep discount. Cause I’m tired of sitting here having wicked Hot Flashes all by myself.

The normal investment for a half-day session is $595. But our August rate is $295.

First come, first served.

To book your sesh, click here for the payment portal and then I’ll be in touch so we can grab our date. (If that link gives you trouble, please try pasting this crazy url into your browser:

I look forward to meeting you.

Love, Jen

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The Piece I Shouldn’t Put Out There

Sam Howzit

I must have been the most self-centered person in the world (which is itself a self-centered thing to write) – anyway, that is all I can think of to explain the oddness of meeting again with former beau.

Recently, I had the “opportunity” to reconnect with a couple – from a long, long time ago. They reach out as if I’m the same person, which strikes me as very odd. I mean, the only reason you would do that is if you are.

But who they are or aren’t now is none of my business. What is my business is who I am and how I behave.

I wasn’t “that bad” of an alcoholic. Most of my destruction was on myself, but not all of it. And hearing from these people from my past has opened my eyes to some of it.

What was I thinking?

A blast from the past isn’t such a bad thing. It shows you distance – as in how far you’ve come. I know I’m supposed to get to compassion, and I’m sure I will. My spiritual process always takes me there – eventually.

For today, though, I get to sit with the uncomfortable reflection in a decades old mirror. I’m glad I don’t live that way any more. I thought that good grades and a healthy dollop of perfectionism would keep me safe.

The last thing I wanted to be was an alcoholic like my dad. And as I sit here, just eight weeks before my 27th year of sobriety, I realize I’m not.

I’m the alcoholic who lived.

I need to remember that.

Sobriety is a fragile thing. And I’m reminded how much I don’t want to go back to that life.

Blessed Be.

Love, Jen

photo: flickr, Sam Howzit

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The Soulful Entrepreneur

Larry Johnson
So it turns out that midlife is the Ideal Time to start your own business.  Most of our early responsibilities have changed, freeing up some time, space, and cash to invest in ourselves for a change.

Who better to save the world than a woman who has spent the last decades of her life growing and saving a piece of it already?

I gotta admit, I didn’t have the first clue what I was doing when I started out on the Internet nearly five years ago.

For one thing, when I was growing up, we didn’t even have answering machines yet, much less computers, the Internet, and all the other wonderful tools available to midlife entrepreneurs today.

But I’ve figured it out and I would love to be your guide on this wonderful journey – believe me, I can save you all kinds of time and money on those mistakes you WON’T be making when we work together.

It’s such a delicious time to be alive. You can start your Big Dream with pennies on the dollar of what it would have cost you to begin even ten years ago.

That means that EVERYONE can have a go at that thing that makes your heart soar.

I’m building out a new offering for those of you who want to move forward, called The Soulful Entrepreneur.

Until it gets its very own home, I’m sharing the details with you on our site.

If you are a Difference Maker, than I want to talk with you. Here’s where you go to learn if we are a match.

And here’s where you go to set up a Soulful Strategy Session with Beautiful Me.

It’s time, love. Your dream is at hand.

Let’s have a go at it.

Love,  Jen

photo: flickr, Larry Johnson

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Funnest Ever — A Word about Loss (Pt. 1)


My husband and I met online – a little over eight years ago.

Back in those days, my online moniker was “Funnest Ever.”

Once he was not getting his way with me and said, “I thought you were supposed to be ‘Funnest Ever.’”

To which I retorted, I am. But “Funnest Ever” does not mean “Funnest Always.”

Women are under such pressure in our society – to smile when we don’t feel like it. Slough stuff off that needs to be confronted.

Look the other way.
Turn the other cheek.
Let go and let god.

Blah, blah, blah . . . other statements that are meant to keep women quiet when they’re meant to ROAR.

Smile, though your heart is breaking.
Don’t cry out loud.

I didn’t realize until I was in my 30’s that that last one was meant to be tongue in cheek. I thought it was a prescriptive for how you were supposed to be when you were upset.

Crawl in a hole. Don’t come out until you’re all Ship Shape again.

I was 11 when my father lost his battle with alcoholism. He was 34. (What a waste. He missed so much.)

Anyway, as I’m sitting there mere moments after my mother broke the news, my great-grandmother called, got me on the phone and told me, “Jennie Ann, your father was the love of your mother’s life. Don’t cry and upset her.”

So I didn’t. For 17 long years I never grieved that man. Nope. Not until the 364th day of my own sobriety.

I remember sitting there on the eve of my own first year and the tears just came. What a waste, what a waste.

It took years to unpack that loss, and I can’t help but wonder how it would have been for me if I had been allowed to grieve like a normal child.

Don’t upset your mother.

Lordy, where do we get this stuff?

Love, Jen

photo: flickr, Maja

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