Notes to My Siblings

With Memorial Day approaching I’m starting to have flashbacks... to... the sailboat. I think I can safely speak for my siblings when I say... we do not miss that boat. If you’re bored tonight, here’s a story for you. Once upon a time, my dad bought the largest sailboat you can legally trailer and haul yourself. And because we are Richetts, naturally, we trailered and hauled it ourselves. Because why pay someone who can do it faster and safer than you can when you can do it yourself, right? Right. Memorial Day! The start of summer! The best time to launch a 10,000lb sailboat for the first time ever with only the help of your children who know nothing about boats! For five hours following the Memorial Day parade in a tiny coastal town in Maine, we provided entertainment to nearby hotel guests, lobstermen, and tourists as we prepped and launched Three Stooges style. It is no exaggeration when I say that we backed the boat down the ramp, tried to get it off, got it off a little but got it

As a result of Lyme and other trauma, I’ve developed “checking” (a combo of OCD and anxiety) over the last few years. For me, the root of checking is the need to be sure. Really, really sure. Beyond sure. Is the door locked? Is it really locked? What if it just looks locked, I’d better push on it to be sure. What if it felt locked that one time but it’s not actually locked? I’d better push on it again and try the knob. What if my brain is tricking me and making it look and feel like it’s locked but it’s actually not? Better check again. From locking the door and beyond, things that have risk involved or a way they could turn south send my mind into crazyland trying to think of all the possibilities and control the outcomes to safe ones. Which is, of course, impossible. Living in uncertainty is part of being human. We can’t be sure of what will happen in the next minute, forget about the next week (as the COVID freak out has taught us) and we will work ourselves into an exhausted mess i

May is #lymediseaseawareness Awareness Month, and I just wanted to take a minute to say thanks, Lyme, for literally changing my life. Lyme is horrible and painful and terrifying and I would have never volunteered for the physical symptoms I have experienced, but it’s forced me to reevaluate so much and given me a priceless education on many subjects... Health: health doesn’t just happen and shouldn’t be taken for granted. Health is not as simple as if A, then B, it’s complicated and takes unraveling and digging. I am responsible for my health from small daily choices like diet and toxin load to larger ones like choosing to follow a doctor’s recommendations or not and researching and asking questions when things don’t sound right. Compassion: I had no idea how hurtful casual, dismissive remarks could be until I was told that I wasn’t that sick, it couldn’t hurt that bad, and I was probably just faking it to get what I wanted. Now I know that remarks like that can leave you scarred for

Sunrise and sunset. Seasons. Ocean tides. There’s something soothing as an adult about the fact that there are some things we can count on. We might think we don’t need a routine as much as a child does, but perhaps I’m a large child because I melt into a pile of figurative snotty tears when my usual life rhythm is upset. The difference between me as a child and me as an adult though is that now, creating a rhythm for my daily life is all up to me, no one creates it for me. The easier route is to do whatever I feel like at the moment... isn’t that what we always dreamed of doing as kids?! But it doesn’t take more than a day or two for me to start to feel unsettled, and like a child it’s only a few days more before everyone around me knows it! The harder route is to intentionally choose what my daily rhythm looks like, and to have the discipline to do the things that are good for me, even if they aren’t what I feel like doing. . . . A few notes to my fellow overachievers and perfectioni

Being present is hard for me. I feel like I’ve been waiting for something my whole life. I’m always trying to reach ahead into the not-yet to live in the someday. If I just get THERE, then I’ll be satisfied, I think. But life is happening now, today, this minute. Life isn’t paused because of a stay home order. It isn’t paused because I’m flaring and have to cancel plans. It isn’t paused because I don’t have that job yet, that house yet, or haven’t taken that trip yet, or any of the plethora of things I think will complete me. Living in the Now requires discipline and hard work, but it brings peace to the Waiting. We’re always going to be waiting for one thing or another, but waiting doesn’t mean living is on pause. Your life is happening now, as you’re reading this. Strive to grow in the discipline of waiting with peace and purpose ♥️.

2020 has given you all a wonderful gift: the resurrection of the Notes to My Siblings blog! (I kid, I kid. I mean, the blog is actually getting resurrected, but my opinions are not always a treat lol.) Since I haven't written on here in several years, I've copied over some significant Instagram posts to make it look better :D. I've left (most of) my old posts on here. I'm happy to say that the last 5 years has significantly tamed the snark (if you've only known me for the last couple years you missed a *delightful* stage of my life and you're welcome), but I still mostly agree with the majority of what I wrote. I just would maybe say it differently now. Happy reading!

When I first started having health challenges, one of the original challenges was severe claustrophobia and crowd anxiety. I mean, I used to be the girl who spoke practically no Spanish, flew to the Dominican in the middle of the night, cleared customs and took a taxi an hour ride to a missionary’s house by herself, no sweat. But when Lyme happened, if someone so much as got in line behind me at the grocery store, I had a panic attack because it was too crowded and I felt trapped. Sheesh. I went nowhere but work and home for a very long time. I thought I was reasonably over my fear of the grocery store, but lately it’s circled back around to freak me out. Lines. Waiting. Crowds. Being at other people’s mercy. I get sick to my stomach just knowing I have to go. (I know, it’s dumb. But tell my body that because it says it’s a VERY REAL DANGER RUN RUN RUN 🙄.) While trying to hype myself up to make the next grocery run, I realized... so far, I have not had to stand in more than a reasonab

30 random things I’ve learned (or continue to learn 🤦🏼‍♀️) in 30 years in no particular order. 1. Life is hard. 2. Most of the time, there is more than one right way to do things. 3. The ocean is a place where everything is ok. 4. While excessive spending is not good, extreme saving will not make you happy or solve your problems. 5. Do not waste your singleness by having a one track find-a-spouse mind. DO something with your life that matters. 6. Try stuff. Don’t be a chicken. 7. Experiences > stuff. 8. Individual suffering is a soul refining process. 9. Achievements are not as measurable as American culture would have you think. 10. Suffering will either push you away from God or push you towards God, your choice. 11. Suffering as a family can either push you apart or knit you together, your choice. 12. When “they” say something, DO YOUR RESEARCH. Too many things are not as they appear or as people would like you to believe. 13. Believe your people even when you can’t see it. Abu

With health challenges, I’ve sometimes wished for someone to say “wow, I’m impressed” when I do normal and mandatory things like go to work or go grocery shopping because honestly, sometimes accomplishing this feels like I’ve just finished an Iron Man triathlon or hell week with the Marines 🙄. I don’t think I’m the only one that normal things can feel like Mt. Everest for. I think the mom who’s baby is teething and hasn’t slept in a week and still manages to do the laundry and cook dinner wants to hear “good job, keep going”. I think the person struggling to get up in the morning, weighed down by depression wants to hear “good job, keep going”. I think the person who’s applied to a million jobs and still can’t find one wants to hear “good job, keep going”. Because “good job, keep going” means “I see you. I know what it took for you to _____.” And who doesn’t want to be seen?? Text someone right now whose life is a being a little extra and remind them that you see them ♥️. It matters.