{"id":13991,"date":"2025-08-28T10:29:10","date_gmt":"2025-08-28T17:29:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/?p=13991"},"modified":"2025-08-28T10:29:16","modified_gmt":"2025-08-28T17:29:16","slug":"my-heart","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/my-heart\/","title":{"rendered":"My Heart"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer\u2019s voice on the page.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

My Heart<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

By Karen Handyside Ely<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

My heart is a newly uncluttered closet. Organized and cleared of discarded outfits that smothered the floor, made movement impossible, allowed no forward progress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The air, once static and heavy with body-image accusations, is now peaceful and fresh. Eerily quiet with a hanging row of color-coded dresses that don\u2019t hurl recrimination and neatly stacked t-shirts, crisply folded and segregated. Controlled. Smelling faintly of the lavender sachet I\u2019ve finally replenished on the bottom shelf\u2026 now that I can reach it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Favorite sweaters, unworn for ages, have been lovingly salvaged, gently removed from their hangers, and boxed for consignment shops and resale. Traitorous pants and blouses, once thought to be friends, are stuffed haphazardly into hefty bags to sit out on the sidewalk for donated pick-up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My heart is a freshly weeded garden, no longer raucous with errant fruit and thorny, overgrown blackberry vines.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The vines must be cut back. They have overrun the garden. Sweet berries have been harvested, the memory of their syrupy tang still coating the back of my tongue. It is hard, punishing work, leaving bruised and bleeding hands inside scruffy gardening gloves. I love my berry bushes, but they put up a fight when I try to tame them. They take up precious space. They have run their course.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m sad but content in this season of my life \u2013 rethinking, regrouping, reprioritizing. A process that is painful but cleansing. A surgical and focused attempt to remove what doesn\u2019t serve. Saying good-by to illusions of \u201cwhat was\u201d that have piled up on the closet floor. Illusions that are now choking new growth in the garden.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is not a personal rebuke of friends and family, who have disappointed my idealistic expectations. Just a reshuffle of who and where and how I spend my time. I\u2019m saying good-bye to my own hurt feelings and the painful disconnection that is muddying my water, over-running my closet, dominating my garden. I am losing my fear of letting go of what has already changed to make space and sanctity for what is to come.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy Heart\u201d was inspired by the writing prompt, Metaphors and Hyberbole<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

There are some who say that Karen Handyside Ely<\/strong> was born with her nose firmly planted in a book. She is a life-long lover of unusual words, lilting phrases, and absurd stories.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a brief stint as a credit analyst in San Francisco and New York City, and a 30+year career as a mom and \u201cprofessional\u201d volunteer in Scottsdale, AZ, Karen retired to her beloved hometown of Petaluma, CA.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She delights in difficult crossword puzzles, singing with the Petaluma Choir, and anything baked by her husband James.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Karen has been published in \u201cThe Write Spot to Jumpstart Your Writing: Discoveries,\u201d \u201cThe Write Spot: Reflections,\u201d \u201cThe Write Spot: Possibilities,\u201d \u201cThe Write Spot: Writing as a Path to Healing,\u201d and \u201cThe Write Spot: Musings and Ravings From a Pandemic Year.\u201d
The Write Spot books<\/a> are available from your local bookseller and on Amazon (both print and as e-readers)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer\u2019s voice on the page. My Heart By Karen Handyside Ely My heart is a newly uncluttered closet. Organized and cleared of discarded outfits that smothered the floor, made movement impossible, allowed no forward progress. The air, once static and heavy with body-image accusations, is now […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"sfsi_plus_gutenberg_text_before_share":"","sfsi_plus_gutenberg_show_text_before_share":"","sfsi_plus_gutenberg_icon_type":"","sfsi_plus_gutenberg_icon_alignemt":"","sfsi_plus_gutenburg_max_per_row":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1474],"tags":[1566,1190],"class_list":["post-13991","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-sparks","tag-karen-handyside-ely","tag-writing-freely-just-write-writing-prompts-the-write-spot-blog"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p43Dj8-3DF","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13991","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13991"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13991\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13993,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13991\/revisions\/13993"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13991"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13991"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13991"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}