“The spirit finds a way to be born.
Instinct seeks for ways to survive.” – Toba Beta

From the time we are old enough to know better, we find ways to test the rules. What ebbs, we want to flow. Up? Fuck that, gimmie Down.

As kids, it’s liberating; a way to forge independence and carve our path. We long to navigate beyond right and wrong – we adore hovering in the what ifs and why nots – which is what learning is all about.

As we mature into adulthood, lessons carry more weight. We discover fear from what has burned us – about hope from moments that carry us beyond our wildest dreams – to love on how we are loved.

For those of us who were raised with emotional deficits – the broken – the lost – our concept of right and wrong is skewed. We lie, but more importantly, believe the lies we live, tell others and to ourselves. It’s a defense mechanism. It’s all we know.

One of the best (and most horrifying) ways to learn the hard lessons of life is to test our instinct. Somewhere deep inside our soul, we know. That little voice inside us taps our tortured souls, waving its arms “no….no..this will hurt.” We go in anyway.

The problem with not listening to our instinct is that eventually the veil of denial always lifts. Instead of only feeling betrayed by others, there’s an element of self-destruction. The “what the fuck was I thinking” takes over. At this point, we have a choice. We can beat ourselves up the way we learned to as children, or we can thank the voice. That beautiful hum inside your heart. Don’t allow it to say things like “I told you so.”


In the face of betrayal, smile with gratitude. You’ve learned about loyalty.

With tears of disappointment, wipe them with kindness. You’ve learned about expectations.

We may not have been raised with the love and kindness we deserved – but don’t ever let this stop you from giving it to yourself.

Instinct always knows. Befriend your voice. Forgive it when you fall. Allow it to lift you. You’ll be surprised how high you will fly.


Christine Macdonald


LoveLockThere is a special bridge in central Paris, the Pont des Arts. It’s a pedestrian bridge crossing the River Seine, linking the Institut de France and the central square (cour carrée) of the Palais du Louvre.

What makes this bridge so special are the countless padlocks, inscribed with initials and messages of couples in love, attached to its structure.

A clunky, dirty, heavy blanket of undeniable, unbreakable love.

Built in 1804, this nine-arch metallic love shack is a place couples visit from across the globe. After securing their customized lock, they toss its key into the Seine [river] below – a sign that their devotion is eternal, never to be undone.

I’d love to return to Paris one day and walk the Pont des Arts – if only to breathe in the stories. Each piece of metal, many rusted and eroded through time, so singular in their tale, yet

Christine Macdonald

Breakups: 5 ways to keep your sanity (and help heal your heart)

It’s been nine years since the shittiest break-up in the universe was aired on Sex and The City. You remember. In season 6, episode 7, when the dude (Jack Burger) Carrie was just talking to her BFFs about ending it with (unbeknownst to him) beat her to the punch by splitting in the middle of the night, leaving a seven word break-up post-it in the dust. Yea, that break-up.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t hate me.”

Sure, its fiction, but being a die-hard SATC fan, I felt a little something when Carrie whacked that vase of carnations to the floor after her discovery. A wave of sorrow, anger, frustration, and empathy crept through my bones and I was once again impressed with how the writers of the show were able to hit a nerve.

Most of us have been there. Whether on a post-it (or these days, text message – both are equally gross), email, phone call or gasp in person, being told our love-partner wants out is one of the scariest and heart-breaking moments in our lives (surpassed only by the feeling you get when a nurse calls to schedule a timely in-person appointment – because your test results can’t be discussed over the phone – but that’s another level of scary).

Some would say the pain of a break-up is (in some ways) even harder to survive than losing a loved one to death. With loss of life, you have the brutal fact that the person is physically gone from this world – and however painful the process of accepting this fact – it’s that much harder to have the knowledge that your lost love is still walking around. Happy. Without you.

I remember my first heart-wrenching break-up. I was in my late 20s and we had been living

Christine Macdonald