Marti Maley
Bio
Hi š my name is Marti. I am an artist and healer living in Alaska & Arizona. I believe in good coffee, chihuahuas, and mental health. I love connecting with fellow artistsš @msmartimaley
Stories (26/0)
- Top Story - April 2024
Clinging to ChildhoodTop Story - April 2024
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minuteā a decision Iām beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesnāt pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley6 days ago in Fiction
The Humble Guru
āStraighten your arms. No, your elbows are bent. Straighten them.ā I blink rapidly as sweat drips directly into my eye. Iām standing in a 105-degree heated room with my arms over my head sideways and a pile of sweat pooling underneath me. Iām desperately trying to straighten my arms. This is only the first posture.
By Marti Maleyabout a month ago in Humans
More than a Mom
The runnerās jog past me, eyes downcast and shoulders sagging. It is the 20-mile mark, the most challenging leg of the 26.2-mile race. A cheer from the crowd perks them up, and the marathonerās posture changes, making their feet a little lighter. I clap along with them, but my eyes scan the horde for the only person I truly care about: my mom. I see her in the distance, her powerful legs moving rhythmically as she approaches the checkpoint, her arms pumping. āGO MOM!ā I shout out excitedly. My dad and brother join in, and we continue cheering in unison until sheās right in front of us. Breathing heavily, she acknowledges us with a smile and continues on, body and mind resolute. She has more than three hours of non-stop running behind her and still more than an hour left to go. As I watch her round the corner, I think to myself for the millionth time: My mom is a superhero.
By Marti Maley2 months ago in Families
- Top Story - March 2024
Peace of Body
I have to admit, Iām sick and tired of trying to change my body. I find the same diet trends that disappear and then resurface on instagram anxiety-inducing; the flurry of workouts that pop up incessantly on facebook exhausting. Iām burnt out from the high protein breakfast ideas, as well as the āwhat I eat in a dayā trends that seem almost identical. Even more so, Iām frustrated that despite living in an era that is more than ever in favor of loving your body, I still struggle with accepting mine. All this being said, I still find myself taking screen-shots of brownies made from sweet potatoes that Iām never going to try.
By Marti Maley2 months ago in Journal
Healer, Heal Myself
Since the age of six, as long as I have kept a diary, I have signed it, āLove, Me.ā Even as a kid, before countless magazine articles and email newsletters promoting self-worth bombarded my mailbox, I was drawn to the concept of loving yourselfā¦or at least, trying to. Nevertheless, despite understanding this early on, I have spent most of my thirty-two years criticizing, critiquing, and reprehending myself. Judging myself. Wishing I was someone else. And yet, Iāve never given up on my incessant quest for self-acceptance. I read A Return to Love by Marianne Williamson so many times I can quote it. I kept gratitude journals, repeated affirmations, and listened to podcasts. I purchased an absurd amount of bergamot-scented candles. But for some reason, focusing all of this energy solely on myself never quite clicked for me. It wasnāt until I began shifting my awareness to helping others that my relationship with myself finally began to heal.
By Marti Maley2 months ago in Humans
