I Love You Means Always Having to Say “I’m Sorry”

Month 2 of my year-long A Love Poem a Day project begins!

Yesterday, while walking the shore, I got stuck on that famous Hollywood line from Love Story: “I love you means never having to say you’re sorry.”

It’s a beautiful romantic myth. It’s also not true.

This week’s post is a deep dive into why that cliché is so dangerous, and why saying “I’m sorry” is actually one of the strongest commitments you can make in love.

Read the full poem and article HERE

I invite you to Join the Adventure!

  • Share your thoughts on the post. What do you think? Is apologizing a sign of weakness or strength?
  • Follow along to catch the rest of my year-long project.
  • Share this post with friends

It’s only Month 2, and this adventure is just getting started.

13 Lessons for My 13 Year-Old Self

What would you tell your younger self? That’s the question that inspired my new mini-booklet, 13 Lessons for My 13-Year-Old Self. It’s a short, powerful guide filled with life lessons on love, living, and finding your way. 

I originally wrote the list 11 years ago with 10 messages when my beautiful friend Joyce Wycoff asked me if I would contribute to a book she was creating for her niece’s 13th birthday. Joyce republished it recently to celebrate the same niece’s 24th birthday.

I’m so grateful she shared her post with me. As she always does, she inspired me to ‘create better’.

If you would like to read the 13 lessons, you can download a complementary copy of the booklet HERE for a limited time.

Magic Happens When We Stop Shrinking

I saw an image on Instagram this morning that really resonated with me. A beautiful butterfly with the caption: “Magic happens when you stop shrinking to fit spaces you’ve outgrown.”

It’s how I look at aging. I’ve outgrown my 50s, 60s, and now, I’m growing and expanding into my 70s, devouring every delicious bite of being this age of empowered living.

Somewhere in my 30s, I realized I was being sold a load of horse-manure by the cosmetic industry. “Anti-aging.” “Anti-vaginal odor.” “Anti-anything” some clever marketer thought women should address in order to stay, reclaim, or feel young again.

It was as if they were whispering (though it often felt like shouting), “Being your age is okay, but looking, smelling, and feeling it? No way! That just means you’re old.”

Well, guess what? I’m in my 70s now. And I have not stopped aging. Shocking, isn’t it? What I have done is stop buying into the anti-aging narrative. There is nothing in it for me to be afraid of aging. Heck, I’ve been doing it every single day of my life. I’m an aging expert. And in my vast repertoire of experience, I’ve learned a thing or two about the anti-aging movement.

  1. Anti-aging is anti-women being themselves. It’s a relentless campaign to convince us that our natural state is a problem to be solved.
  2. Anti-aging is a confidence racket. It’s constructed to make us feel bad about how we look, act, dress, talk, and even smell. The goal isn’t to make us beautiful; it’s to make us insecure.
  3. Anti-aging is a multi-billion dollar industry. I can’t fight the industry, but I can fight back by not buying their horse-manure. My wallet is my weapon.

What about you? Are you done shrinking? Are you ready to claim your right to be your age—with all the grace, sass, and dignity you’ve earned?

Let’s start a revolution. A quiet, powerful, and deeply personal revolution.

Your Call to Action:

Stop playing their game. Look in the mirror today and say, “This is me. This is my magic. Aren’t I magnificent!”

What is one small, rebellious act you’re doing to embrace your age? Maybe it’s ditching the painful heels for a pair of shoes that love your feet. Maybe it’s not hiding the grey or wearing a bold new lipstick that makes you feel powerful or finding your power in opting out of make-up entirely á la Suzanne Sommers. Maybe it’s simply refusing to feel ashamed of a new wrinkle and choosing instead to see each one as a celebration of your life story.

Please do share your story in the comments below. Let’s celebrate our earned wisdom, our hard-won freedom, and the deliciousness of being exactly where we are. Because magic doesn’t happen when we shrink; it happens when we expand.

In Lavender Fields

Surrounded by the exquisite scent of 700 Lavender plants in bloom and serenaded by wind chimes and birdsong, my sister, Anne and I, along with 4 other women and the amazing Dar Yuill spun lavender into beautiful wreaths.It was a delightful afternoon of creating, chatting and celebrating our human connections and community.

And… I decided, just for fun, to write a song for the day and ask AI (I know, I’ve crossed over to the ‘dark’ side – but it’s really cool!) to put my song to music. And this is what I got! (Lyrics are mine)

And these are the complete song lyrics:

In Lavender Fields
by Louise Gallagher

In lavender fields where the sun sets wide,
Gentle breezes whisper tales of old.
Memories float like clouds in the sky,
Soft petals dance under the sun's gold light.

Oh, lavender fields, how you bring me peace,
With every breath, my heart finds release.
In your charms, I find the quiet ease,
Of simple days when life was full of rest.

Through the rows of purple, I create a wreath,
Feeling the warm sun caress my cheeks.
Each strand weaves a memory, each scent a tone,
Nature's melody, sweet and sweet.

In lavender fields, I let go and rest,
Where worries fade and calm takes hold.
In your gentle beauty, I find my best,
A peaceful journey, soul and fold.

Finding my happy place

Do you ever hear a little voice inside that causes you to doubt your worthiness?

May reminds me to Celebrate LIFE! Celebrate JOY! Celebrate the incredible people who enrich my world, who have stood by me through thick and thin, always believing.

AND – celebrate being ME! I am worthy.

Have you celebrated the amazing you today? If you could whisper something truly uplifting to your own heart right now, what would it be?

Come join me on my Substack today and let’s have a conversation about just how worthy, amazing and magnificent you are!

Raw: Of Rage. Fear. and Release.

Emotions are tough to corral, tougher still to name.

Some mornings, journalling surprises me with what flows out.

Case in point: this morning’s words morphed into a poem of grief and loss. Or is it about these times? The vitriol, anger, war, power struggles, the sides we take, the shade we cast.

Or simply, a lifetime of swallowing words to present the ‘good girl’ my mother trained me to be?

Seventy-one years on, I’m still unwinding those lessons that do not serve me well.

Living is a journey: inward, outward, a journey of letting go. Claiming my right to be all my emotions. Fearlessly. Authentically. Vulnerably. Me.

What about you? Do you struggle to unwind childhood lessons that no longer serve? Have you found a way to rage, to scream, to run through fear and release the ‘ought to be’—to be Fearless. Authentically. Vulnerably. You?

Do share! We learn from each other how to do this thing called Life.

RAW
by Louise Gallagher

RAGE

Let me
know you,
Let me
feel
your hot breath
scorch
niceties
expelled
on fake smiles
pasted
in place.

FEAR

Let me lose
all memory
of what a good girl
oughta’ do.
Let me
burn
the fetid stench
of good manners
stomp
angry words
scorching
my tongue,
held
still.

RELEASE

Let me
wail
Let me
scream
your name
full of
memories
entwined
drowning
my senses
overflowing
the empty spaces
left behind.

Share

Magnetic Emotions: The Necessary Beauty of Sadness

We celebrate happiness, its warmth, its allure, its sunshiney nature. We extoll its virtues, chase its fleeting glow, pursue its richness. But what of sadness, its counterpart? We shun it, dismiss it, rush to banish its presence. When someone speaks of the blues, we scramble to lift their spirits, to paint over grey skies with forced sunshine.

But what if the blues held equal value? What if the lows were as essential as the highs? Physics reminds us: for every action, an equal and opposite reaction. Happiness and sadness, then, are not enemies, but inseparable companions, two sides of the same coin. Like magnetic poles they are forever drawn together, creating the emotional field we inhabit.

A woman I know begins each day with deliberate sorrow, twenty minutes of tears before facing the world. A release, a conscious acknowledgment of the pain that surrounds us. “There is so much pain and suffering in this world. So much over which I have little control. My tears are my antidote to helplessness creating much needed grace and space for joy to flow,” she explains. “I can’t go around it. I must go through it.” And so, to journey through sadness, she builds a bridge of tears to carry her to the other side.

On rainy days like today, when the sky is a heavy grey, the wind a mournful cry, the blues invite us to pause, to feel. To surrender.

In these moments, the blues become a necessary antidote to our fears. They remind us of the cyclical nature of life, the inevitable return of light after darkness. Like the tides, life ebbs and flows. To truly embrace its mystery, we must welcome both the sun and the storm, the joy and the blues. We must stop chasing the blues away and welcome in every facet of the richness of our emotional experience awash in the sea of life.

To help you build a bridge through sadness to happiness, here are three simple practices you can implement today:

  • Embrace Morning Tears: Dedicate a few minutes each morning to acknowledge and release sadness. Start with five minutes of quiet reflection, allowing whatever emotions arise to surface. If tears come, let them flow. If not, simply sit with the feeling, accepting its presence without judgment.
  • Curate an Emotional Soundtrack: Create a playlist that reflects the full spectrum of your emotions. Begin with songs that resonate with sadness or the blues, allowing yourself to feel those emotions fully. Then, transition to songs that uplift and inspire, creating a journey from sorrow to joy.
  • Journal Your Blues: Alongside your gratitude practice, create a space to acknowledge your struggles. Write down what upsets you, what makes you feel helpless, or what triggers your sadness. Giving voice to these feelings through writing can be a powerful step towards processing and moving through them.

_______________

This post originally appeared on my SUBSTACK March 19, 2025

The Breath of Now

When worry threatens to steal my joy, I find anchors in the present moment. Join me as I share a personal journey through the shifting tides of life and discover simple practices to cultivate calm amidst the storm.

To read the post, and discover 4 anchors to help you live in this beautiful ‘now’, CLICK HERE
#copd #copdawareness #caregiverlife #caregiverstress #dareboldly #livenow #dare

The Fire Within: A Moon Snake Manifesto

The Year of The Snake

I am Snake moonchild. Woman born of deep flowing wisdom, wrestled from the sun in the heat of night, erupting from the fiery essence of time. I come into this world, arms wide open, heart a vessel flowing with love, mind, an endless field of possibility, greeting the horizon. My creative energies stir up an alchemy of wonder, mystery, and magic, molten hot like lava tumbling down a mountainside—hot, fierce, untameable.

As a child, I dreamt of taming snakes. Child no more, I shed the skins of time passing to embody my snake-wise nature. Transformed, I stand undaunted against time’s pressing nature urging me to be suppressed, subdued, enslaved.

I will not be broken. I will not be silenced. I will not be dimmed.

I will shine bright through mist-strewn skies and star-studded night.

I will illuminate the path with glittery jewels of wisdom cast upon the celestial darkness that threatens to consume our humanity.

I will not be broken. I will not be silenced. I will not be dimmed.

I will navigate challenges and triumphs with the grace of a python shedding its skin under a moonlit sky.

I will walk naked in the dark. I will walk naked in the light. I will stand naked against your demands I tame my fire. And I will burn. Bright. Never lowering my eyes, never backing off, never losing sight of the moon’s light beckoning me to run wild and free.

You. Will. Not. Tame. Me.

_____________________________

I was born in the year of the snake. Born to be wild and free. Born to listen to my creative essence urging me to expressive, untamed heights. Born to hear my intuition calling me to listen deep to the murmurings of my soul.

It has taken my lifetime to embrace the freedom to be. Me.

______________

Thank you Beth at I Didn’t Have My Glasses On for the inspiration this morning and to my computer screen saver whose random photo was the moon shot above.

Hidden Voices (a poem)

Walking along the shoreline, water calm, air crisp with spring’s promise. Beau sniffs and snuffles the grass and bushes at the edge of the road, seagulls swoop and screech overhead,

I meet a woman and her dog. She shares her joy of see a pod of eight Orcas surface close in to where she stood on the rocks yesterday as dusk began to settle in.

“They appeared, and then they were gone,” she said after telling me that three seals scampered onto the rocks as the Orcas passed. Her dog barely noticed them.

Her dog and Beaumont sniff. Lose interest and continue to smell the greenery all around where we stand at the edge of the ocean.

I haven’t seen the Orcas yet. Lots of Humpback but no Orcas.

I know I will. One day. Soon. I hope.

I continue walking along and something she said about her heart feeling like it was blossoming out when she spied the whales resonates. The muse picks up the thread and when I return home, these words wove their way into substance.

Hidden Voices 
by Louise Gallagher

Sing out loud, he urged,
but she held back,
ignoring the melody
stirring within her
hidden behind the secrets of childhood.

Everyone can sing, he said gently.
I don't dare, she demurred,
then hummed a little tune to herself,
a sweet, melodious note so pure,
the air stilled around her,
rustled through the leaves
swaying gently to her song.

That was beautiful, he whispered.

She shook her head, side to side
a nervous laugh escaping her lips
as soft as a moonbeam kissing the night.

It was nothing, she said.
Nothing we do is ever nothing
if we do it from the heart, he replied.

Her heart bloomed open,
a flower releasing its fragrant song.

His words rang true, a siren call,
urging her voice to rise up
loud and strong
no matter who was listening.