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Tag: love

Confession time. I am going through what Brené Brown calls a midlife unravelling. No, it’s not a midlife crisis. It’s not a mental health collapse, either, although it feels like it. It’s an undoing. An uncontrolled and uncontrollable breakdown of what has been assumed and is assumed. What was certain is not. What seems to be reality is actually a foundation of quicksand. It’s a curious No Man’s Land of stripped back limbo where I’m questioning my decisions, and the preceding groundwork and reality on which I have based those decisions.

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My lovely friend Karen Willis from Sharing Bali and Beyond (I met her when I did a writer’s retreat in Bali a couple of years ago) issued her end-of-year newsletter (you should subscribe because it’s gorgeous and full of inspiration about travel and health and wellness) and something she said struck me.

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On 31 December of each year, I do a review of the past year. I look at what I’ve learned, what went well, and what didn’t.  I revisit what I know for sure. This year it’s a little later because of, well, stuff. And by stuff I mean life and all that that entails. It has been a jam-packed year, though. Moving to Vietnam does that to a girl. From nearly dying to reinventing myself as a writer to almost falling in love, there hasn’t been a dull moment. I’ve had the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.

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Well, it appears that I did send that letter to John after all! I found this letter in my personal effects, hidden between a couple of old photos… Dear Diane, I’ve been thinking a lot about you the last few days. I was going to write you a letter sooner before your letter came today. Thank you for the letter. I’ve had a lot of good times with you too, and would like to say you’re a wonderful person with many interesting facets. The love and support I’ve felt from you over the last ten months has been greater than

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This is the 19th essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice! I have been clearing out my belongings in preparation for my indefinite move to Vietnam and I found this letter in a bunch of old papers

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Photo by Wynand van Poortvliet. Used with permission. I’ve been pondering lately. Pondering all the wisdom out there on the interwebz that says things are easy. Just do this, they say, and you’ll be living the dream in no time. It’s easy, they say. Yeah, right. If things were that easy, I’d be loved up, have an email subscription list of thousands of fans eagerly awaiting my words of wisdom, and have more freelance work than I could poke a stick at. Of course, this is not my reality. And here’s why. 1. Meeting someone special isn’t easy I have written about

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Sunday Best is a curated list of articles I’ve read over the past week or so that I find enlightening, educational or just plain interesting. This week’s focus is on love, relationships and the dating game—all of which I’ve always struggled with. Enjoy! The mating game is changing You know how you think that it’s a man’s world when it comes to dating? Tinder, hook-ups, no commitment, few return phone calls or second dates? Turns out you were right and you weren’t imaging things, according to Psychology Today. It’s all because males are currently in short supply. Dating is a supply and

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As you know, I’ve just returned from a trip to Bali. I went there for the Write A Bestseller Retreat at Sharing Bali. I think I also mentioned in a previous post somewhere that I had never been interested in going to Bali, what with all the drunk Australians that are drawn to the island. Bali equalled Kuta equalled Bali, as far as I was concerned. I am here to tell you that Bali was one of THE best travel experiences I’ve ever had. If you have been following my escapades adventures on my travel blog, you’ll know that the

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(And I’ve read so many…) Y’all have been reading this blog for a while. Y’all know that I’ve had such miserable and painful experiences in the love and relationships department that I decided to bow out, throw in the towel and resign myself to the fact that I am doomed to walk this planet alone. But what if I told you I have read a book that has literally made me rethink my I Am Doomed to Be Single Forever And Will Just Be A Crazy Cat Lady relationship status? That I am not crazy-mad-stupid for how I have previously tackled

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Recently, I almost, very quickly and without much thought, fell in love. He was a man I had met a number of times, and when we crossed paths this last time, something just clicked into place. Suffice it to say I was swept off my feet with his attention; his openness and warmth; his wanting to get to know me; and his heady promises of an awesome future. He seemed so authentic, so genuine, so real and so different from all the fucktards I’d recently had the dubious pleasure of being involved with. And he was authentic, genuine, real and different until

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This post was first published on 24 July 2012. Seeing as we’ve just celebrated (?) international Single Awareness Day (iSAD – aka Valentine’s Day), I figured it’s a good time to republish this post. Oh, and I recently updated my relationship status to “runner”. Nostalgia is a wonderful gift. It causes us to view experiences through rose-colored glasses. Things seem to be always better in the past, way back when. Time fades the bad and somehow polishes it into a softer, more conducive and amenable version of the truth. Recently, I’ve been feeling quite nostalgic about the 80s (who am

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This post was first published on 27 March, 2012. Nothing’s changed, except I have moved jobs, where I come into contact with more men BUT the issues are more or less the same as when I wrote this post originally. I did get stalked by a Texan sociopath in Greece, though. I have been single for close to five years, after having my heart broken by The Italian. (I have duct-taped the bits of my heart together, and while showing some signs of damage with cracks and leaks, is pretty much good to go again.). I have never been single

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