WordPress educator / mad scientist / aspiring writer / autoimmune warrior / parrot and dog mom
A dear friend of mine seems to think I am far more resilient than I actually am. Why? In my late twenties, I took a long, hard look around me, and ultimately walked away from people I loved.
Why was I able to look at people I loved, people who weren’t all bad (just bad for me), and decide enough was enough–and actually walk away?
When I was younger, the most romantic thought in my head was that someone could love me unconditionally, in spite of all my flaws and faults and myriad poor life choices–so I made that my goal in my endeavors. To be able to love people (friends, family, romantic partners) without conditions. That road? The road of absolute, unconditional, “I will do anything, put up with anything, sacrifice anything for you” kind of love? That road leads to unhealthy relationships.
“How are you?”
I never can tell if the asker is serious and actually wants to know, or just stating a pre-defined, shallow pleasantry. I suppose that’s a #neurodiversity problem. As a woman with a glorious and vivid case of ADHD, I’ve overshared my whole life. How SHOULD someone respond to that question in 2022?
Who wants to read from every chapter in a very jumbled and random book? It’s then that I realize: there it is again, that very complicated grief.
The only person who’d want to read that book would be…
Tonight, I’m left wondering: How was Telemachus supposed to feel after his father, Odysseus, returned home–and learned that dear old Dad like… slept with all these chicks and endangered all his crewmates and MAIMED SOME RANDOM CYCLOPS WHO WAS SIMPLY MINDING HIS BUSINESS?
On Friday, we drove sixteen hours to return home from Arkansas to Florida.
This second trip was largely for Jason.
Sara Lou had called again last week, this time to tell us that Randy was in a hospice center, not dissimilar from my mother’s, and that he’d taken a turn.
This time, he was actively dying.
I swear, only Jason can visit a dying man and instill in him a powerful will to live.
I can’t decide if I’m feeling my mother’s presence now, as we accompany the dying process with Jason’s father, or if I’m simply reminded of her own journey to death. Their two journeys couldn’t be more different, though… mostly, anyway.
An Instagram post recently resonated with me: I feel like people struggle with this on the whole. It’s why so many of us compare our imperfect lives to heavily filtered versions of other people’s “reality”. It’s why we don’t offer ourselves a measure of grace when we fail to live up to our own orContinue reading “On becoming your favorite version of yourself.”
I used to write, all the time, about whatever sundry topic happened to flit into my brain. As an adult, though, I feel… shy? Is that the right word? Hesitant, perhaps? Randomly blogging about my life feels self-aggrandizing at best and totally narcissistic at worst. However, I met my very best friend in the wholeContinue reading “Taking Simple Joy in Writing: A Reflection”
There’s an old wisdom—that we often regret the things we didn’t do far more than the things we did. I’ve decided this sentiment doesn’t apply to kids—it is far better to regret the children you didn’t have than regret the ones you did have.
Sure, sometimes, when my love holds babies (rare that it currently is due to COVID), it does something funny to my ovaries, but that’s simple, basic biology.
However, I am far more than my genetic programming.
There is talk of letting the virus run its course. Of murdering people in the name of “herd immunity”.
Tell me: If someone goes to an understaffed, overworked, jam-packed hospital ER with no beds available and not enough surgeons to go around, then ends up dying from neglect because it’s the best the medical staff can offer during the height of a preventable second massive wave of a pandemic, is that counted as a COVID death?
I take no issue in finding my own reasons for being here. I exist to learn hard lessons from some and to teach hard lessons to others; I am here to love and bring joy to those beings who treasure and shelter my soul; and, like every good soul in this world, I exist toContinue reading “On Existence: The Legacies We Leave”
Sarah Snow