It's working. All of it. And it's work.
I blog, I write, I scribble in my notebook. I think like a writer again. I read viciously funny books, dreamy books, books on parenting and being a better person. Newspapers. Magazines. I have ideas.
I write in a gratitude journal, I plan my days. I think about yoga, I stretch and bend. I remind myself to be positive. To let thoughts go. That thoughts are just thoughts, they are nothing.
I stumble and fall, getting angry, getting ashamed (so much shame...what is with that). I fail, miserably, every single day.
But then I get up, I dust off, I start over.
And it's working. And it's work.