Eleven Days, Donuts, Pink Bubbles, & Secrets


I wrote this in September. I thought I might as well publish it, because while after two months, things are different, they haven’t really changed. At least, not so much.


The first conversation I had this morning was about whether to stay in bed longer or get up with enough time to get donuts. Considering the conversation happened in the middle of a twisted spooning situation, the cuddles, of course, won.

I walked to work for my eleventh day straight. I don’t say that to brag or complain or to look for a badge of any kind of recognition or honor. It’s just the reality.

At the end of it, I’m tired. Naturally. My feet hurt and my brain feels worked.

But I’m happy. I love the work I do, and I love the people I work with. They’re creative and engaging. Sincere. Dedicated.

And for that reason, at the end of eleven days, I don’t feel broken or beaten. I’m not “over it.” I’m just tired.

I came home to my girlfriends, two bottles of bubbles, pets that wanted cuddles, and a whole roasted chicken.

I drank and ate and gossiped and vented and celebrated.

I’m now propped up in bed with a glass of champagne on my nightstand and a good conversation with a friend at my fingertips.

Life is really, really simple right now. It’s busy and tiring and taxing. It’s beautiful and sweet and delicious.

And it’s really, really good.



[From Archives] Today, Yesterday, & the Time Before That

doniree on stratejoy

The original and full version of this post first appeared on Stratejoy in August 2010, where I was one of Season 3‘s featured bloggers. This was my first post; it has been edited slightly for clarity and brevity (ha!), but mostly remains as posted. You can read the full post here.


Somewhere in the middle, things in my life turned upside-down and back again.


Twenty-seven.  Blonde.  5’4″, size 7 1/2 shoes.  Not a shoe person.  I have a black cat named Roxy, a tendency to talk quickly when I’m nervous, and I live in a subleased condo in Boulder, Colorado. I’m not from Colorado. I’m employed, albeit creatively including three steady freelance jobs that pay the bills and a million steady hobbies and projects that don’t, but that I’d never give up. I’ve come to terms with the idea that while I want to teach yoga (and I’ve been trained to do so), I’m also reconciling that desire with the fears that I won’t “do it right.”

I’m working on getting over that.

My sense of curiosity and wanderlust frames most of my decisions, so yes I’m a bit nomadic and yes I want to learn everything. I drink wine (gamays are my favorites), Scotch (Macallan 12, neat), and Grey Goose martinis (extra dirty, please). Sometimes I drink beer, but since I don’t burp like normal people, I can’t handle much of it.

My relationships mean everything to me. I’m a sister and a daughter to a tight-knit family. My best friends are scattered all over the country, and I couldn’t survive without them. I’m Southern born, Minnesota grown.


I completed yoga teacher training in November 2009, and left my well-paying, comfortable media buying job the day before Thanksgiving. By December, I knew I was moving to Boulder, CO, and by February 2010, I was spending my days in coffee shops writing blog posts and finding myself face-to-face with Too Many Possibilities.

By May, I was still freelancing 20+ hours each week, and I’ve taken on a full-time job with a Boulder startup. I’m in on the pulse of the tech scene in a creative community. I have health insurance and stable income.

I’m walking the tight-rope between being present and looking forward, in seeing opportunities where I am as well as on the horizon of my peripheral vision.  I know I’m still transient, but I know that I’m supposed to be here.

And the time before that.

I read Eat Pray Love on my twenty-fifth birthday and knew my own life was on the edge of something. I had a friend that had just left a great job in pursuit of starting his own business so he could work from anywhere in the world, and I wanted that, too. By the end of Summer 2008, I was plotting how I might teach yoga on the beaches in Hawaii.

This meant a few things. This meant that I couldn’t stay in the path I was on – attempting a ladder-climb at one of the Twin Cities’ best and most respected ad agencies, living in St. Paul, and not having a clue how to get what I wanted out of life.

I knew I felt drained of passion and creativity and started having panic attacks that were way too frequent. I knew that yoga saved me from myself and my anxiety, and I knew that I had to get out and see more of the world than my neighborhood – beautiful and charming as it was.

Having no idea where those inclinations would take me, I found myself upside-down, simultaneously delirious with and overwhelmed by the possibilities in front of me.

How was I supposed to choose one thing when I felt like I could have anything?