Hey There, I’m Just Jill, Writer.
As simple yet profound as that.
This is me coming home to what matters — the words.
Follow The Journey
Be Inspired—Start Your Own
Giving Myself the Gift of Self-care: How My Home Finally Got Its Heart
When the voice within says, give those now. I listen. And do.
When the voice within shouts, this person needs this from you. I hear it and act.
Yet, when it comes to giving myself a thing, like a working kitchen, I haven’t often listened.
When was the last time you gave yourself a gift?
Tis' the season, as the saying goes.
I was reading an article from a client, who’s also a colleague and friend. An awesome dude from Down Under who sent out an email to his list asking that very question.
It made me press pause for a second as I have gifted others so much.
From my mentor to my coach, to pulling off my JoLo hoops and handing them over to a lady who loved them so much and asked to “try them on”
I have always loved to give.
When the voice within says, give those now.
I listen. And do.
When the voice within shouts, this person needs this from you.
I hear it and act.
Yet, I didn’t always. Listen. Act.
To that voice that said, Give that man with the dog, sitting there huddled up and obviously without a home, the last $20 in your wallet.
When I’d walk by and not listen, the ache I felt was deep, profound.
Disappointment in self, perhaps.
And it just hit me how often I have walked past my own self.
My own inner call to
slow down,
take ten,
write that other book,
finish that damn kitchen,
dance more.
Yet, when it comes to giving myself an important thing,
like a working kitchen,
much like not listening to that call
to hand over my last $20 bill . . .
I haven’t always listened.
And in fact, I haven't for the last three and a half years.
Instead, I made it a joke.
Not having a kitchen. Using a skillet, a hotplate and roughing it.
I mean people do that everyday.
I’m thankful, damn it.
Suffering in my laughing silence.
I made not having a full-kitchen an excuse.
To go to my favorite island restaurants.
A pathway to not taking the most delicious care of myself.
Head. Meet. Desk. Hard.
The heart of the home,
most would say,
is the kitchen.
Is it not?
It’s where the family gathers.
Where food is prepared and nurturing takes place.
Where intentionality can play with day-to-day tasks
like washing (friggin’) dishes.
Where loving of self resides
in a physical sense,
with that prepared plate of food . . .
With time spend in conversation with another
over that cup of tea . . .
Where the nurturing of self
begins and grows
within.
Yet, for me, not having a kitchen—
tossing the years gone by without as a joke.
Making the building of goat houses,
walls and fences
more important,
than creating a space for myself,
a space that nurtures me—
now that makes me go hmmm for a hot second.
Thanks to that wake up call of an email from my Aussie friend.
And I’m tickled purple to share that I have an almost working kitchen as of Saturday at 4PM island time.
And by the time I hit publish on these words, the sink should have running water and thankfully I’ll be back to washing dishes out of a lush space and not a bucket filled with tepid water.
Or too-small half-bath sink where more water ends up on the floor.
And what perfect timing. . .
to set my end of year up with a space where selfcare is easy.
Where the nourishment of me is a given,
not an afterthought,
never again a maybe, if able.
How often do we do that?
Put ourselves last, put our care off for some other day.
Well, I say no more!
Once that stovetop is installed, and my new magnetic pots received, I’ll be cooking up a storm.
Not to overindulge but to feed my soul.
To do a thing I love.
A thing that fills me with such JOY. . .
So long denied.
How silly to deny myself that which makes me smile and feel oh-so good inside.
I betcha you can relate.
And it please me to no end to already have a line of those who want a home-cooked meal from little old me already forming.
Starting with my two amazing installers who did the work of creating this beautiful space over a three day period
and left me with a mountain of stone-dust to sweep up.
Can’t be helped and I tell you what . . .
I’m sweeping and cleaning and rearranging with such gratitude and JOY that even the dirt is being blessed as it exits my cottage door.
So let me ask you, what are you giving yourself as we round out this year?
It’s time to give yourself a gift of NOW
not wait for January 1st to roll around.
What one thing can you gift yourself that will change all?
My kitchen,
the heart of my little island cottage,
that’s going to change so much for me.
In fact, it already has.
And I love it.
And I love me.
Can you say the same?
Let me know in a comment below.
If that question gives you pause,
if you can't say (yet) those all important words, I love myself!,
it might be time to see yourself more clearly.
A Clarity Call with me is your chance to deep-dive into you.
Apply now and if you dare to before the end-of-year
use the code MOREJOY to receive my gift to you.
One Hour Does Have The Power To
Open Doors & Transform Your Life
Photo Credit: freestocks
Farm Girl, me? Pleease!
I never thought of myself as a farm girl – until now.
I was always too afraid to just be me – Just Jill.
Simple. JOYful. Animal loving. Quiet, mostly. Me.
The girl who loved to smile but forever dimmed her light.
Until now.
I never thought of myself as a farm girl – until now.
I was always too afraid to just be me – Just Jill.
Simple.
JOYful.
Animal loving.
Quiet mostly. Me.
The girl who loved to smile but forever dimmed her light.
Until now.
If you didn’t catch it, I’m currently living my childhood dream.
A little cottage, on a hill, surrounded by secret gardens, overlooking the sea where I sit all day and write.
I have that, plus goats.
And so much more JOY because of that delicious addition to what I once considered only the imaginings of a child.
Silly. Stupid. Not for real.
How often have you blown off your dreams, friend?
And the secret gardens, well ‘tis the year for them now that construction is all but – pretty please – done.
So this childhood dream that I literally scoffed at after sharing with the Frenchman over coffee one day . . .
It’s now my reality.
Including the new adds of farm girl duties. Like bottle feeding Snow White. We’re down to three a day. Progress!
And mucking out “stalls”.
No stalls here, just goat poop everywhere.
They really are messy beasts.
And then they give kisses
and nibble on my shirt
and want hugs
and well, I’ll shuck goat poop till my very last breath.
Because they are worth it.
Because I am worth it.
Living my dream – finally.
And this year, 2022, is the year I actually do the action (for real) that my childhood dream stated . . .
“Sit all day and write.”
I am a writer. And yet, how often have I gotten sidetracked.
While The Farmette is also a sidetrack distraction, it’s a choice
and one I will do over and over again,
as I’m sure there will be more goat rescues to come.
It’s who I am. It’s in my blood. It’s what I do.
Like writing.
So in 2022, you’ll be seeing books and more books galore.
And it’s rumbling within,
a book about The Farmette
and all the goat lessons learned.
I’ll be sharing the journey to Just Jill, Writer as that’s what I seem to be doing now.
Who knew?! Open book is me.
[ shaking head at the years spent hiding in plain sight ]
Yet, they served me.
And now, there’s no longer a need to dim it down . . .
So why not join me and make the coming year the most delicious one.
Where you to step fully into your slice of sunlight.
I’m finally writing as me,
and hot damn has it been a trip.
Get on the waitlist and be the first
to access all the details.
Plus, a few delicious sweet-treats.
Post Photo Credit:
What’s In a Name? A Naming Challenge
My word for 2021 was my name. Jill. Just Jill.
And that’s been so incredibly impactful for me because I’ve literally had to look at all of me.
See I’ve been a hider-in-plain sight for most of my life. Ghosting my way though.
Often giggling behind my fisted hand, a secret only I knew.
Yet, also solely in my wins. Easily able to discredit them.
So this year has been an eye opening experience.
And not even due to the pandemic as I simply refuse to give it any more credit for the good and bad of daily life.
Instead, this year has been a deep-dive into getting to know me.
Getting up close and personal, uncomfortably so, with who I am and who I desire to be. Of imprinting into my DNA like an inkless stamp that never expires – I am enough. Just as I am.
This year has been about stepping out from behind my self-imposed shadows and being seen.
And it’s been a doozy.
See each year I choose a word and that word becomes my focus for how I desire to grow,
change,
open,
become more aware,
be.
It’s a powerful tradition that I’ve done now for decades and I’m not even sure where I first heard, found, stumbled upon or outright thought up the idea.
[ I’m all about giving credit where credit is due. High up on my food-chain of values. ]
Well, soon I’ll share more about the massive impact my word for 2021 has had on me, but it may have to wait until it’s a was…
[ Watch for that word-nugget to come once we ring in the new. ]
But I will share this.
My word for 2021
was my name.
Jill.
Just Jill.
And that’s been so incredibly impactful for me because I’ve literally had to look at all of me.
See I’ve been a hider-in-plain sight for most of my life.
Ghosting my way though.
Often giggling behind my fisted hand, a secret only I knew.
Yet, also solely in my wins. Easily able to discredit them.
Often calling it being introverted,
too sensitive,
needing space…
I kept myself back,
distant,
alone
more than connected.
Connection, in more than small doses was hard.
As was receiving love,
which I just wrote words on
which you can also read.
Which is actually the point of this here must-read.
What’s in a name?
I’ve this delightful new addition to my farmette.
A little cottage, on a hill, overlooking the sea where I seem to become an enchanted version of Snow White…
All the little creatures coming to me.
And my latest is a pup, not a goat. I’ve rescued 9 of those to date and am still bottle feeding 5 when not writing words and enJOYing my new nameless treasure.
We, humans, are so often given a name before we even emerge with a soft or victorious cry.
We are labeled before we leave the sterile walls by a word or series of words – a name.
One that has meaning.
One we give meaning.
So one week in, as I sit here pondering names for my new English Bulldog pup, now 16 weeks young, I can’t help but think… What’s in a name?
Let me toss it out to you as this is me now willing to receive.
A former hider-in-plain sight, stepping out and being seen as me.
Just Jill.
Names have come to me for all 9 goats. My flock, not herd.
I know, right?
I’m confused as well.
Flock, say what?
Sometimes those names come quick as the rising red-gold sun breaking through the tropical dawn.
Like Moo Baah my very first baby goat,
who looks like a cow
but sounds like a –
say it with me now –
baah!
Sometimes a drip, dip – molasses smooth inching at a wee crawl toward the held-at-ready silver spoon.
And that seems to be the case with this new right-now snoring under-my-chair one.
A cuddly, sharped tooth bear of a beast who deserves the very best “label” I can provide.
Because a name does matter, does it not?
In some cases it sets us apart. Unique.
In others, it raises an eyebrow. Hard to pronounce.
What’s in a name?
I’m curious to know, as for me, names often circle back around, giving depth and unexpected color. Like the uncommon name uttered when I was eleven that changed my life. A name that has suddenly resurfaced in another and fills me with a shiver.
I feel the delicious weight of responsibility for each name I bestow on those four legged fur-babies and hoofed beasts I rescue.
Hell, even the gecko who stalks my desk and bookshelf while I write.
What’s in a name?
Such a fun question to ponder and if you have a thought – do tell.
Leave me a comment, as right now my sole focus is name-debating about this new pup. If you want to play, give it a go in a comment below…
And if you want to learn more about naming characters, pups or telling a story, join my in my Free Facebook Group
Dare I say it’s delicious!
