I’ve never really been robbed before. I had shit taken out of a car back in early college when we thought it was fun to still go to raves. But this? This is different. This feels personal, even if it isn’t. Like such a violation of my privacy and vulnerability. Friday night my Jeep was …
Every time I take an organic pause in writing, I say I haven’t written in a while. Which is partially true. You, reader, haven’t read my words on my blog in months because I haven’t had the drive to share intimately, or objectively, since my last post. I put some things on social media, but …
I was just going to do a short post online, but this deserves more space. For me, and maybe for you. Over the last few weeks, I’ve let go of tracking my macros and inputting my preplanned meals (a week at a time) into My Fitness Pal, a practice I’ve maintained for … years. This …
Just because I can, doesn’t mean I have to. Seriously. Yesterday absolutely lit my fire, but maybe with some pause and distance from the high, it’ll be to simply continue doing what I’ve been doing. Lifting with intention and purpose under carefully structured programming, running a few days per week for joy, not a requirement. …
I haven’t been able to write much about you. It’s taken 3 weeks to not cry hysterically at some point in the day, and 3 weeks to be able to look at your photo without keeling over in two. You taught me more than I ever imagined needing to learn. You were not Abby, especially …
I remember that day. I remember falling to the floor. I remember who I called, and in what order. I remember the slowing of time, and the acute numbness that overtook my psyche. I remember not being able to think, and Jessi telling me to just breathe. I remember Dad telling me to go to …
Matt, I fucking miss you today. Right now. Like I had forgotten and now I can’t bare to forget. A song you’d dig came on and I can’t stop crying, and my tears don’t tell the story my heart is so desperate to share. But I’ll try. I want to talk to you. I want …
I woke up blah. Rather, I never really felt like I went to bed or slept. That’s not necessarily new for me, but it’s becoming more frustrating as I age because I feel inept at finding the “right” (aka perfect and scripted) solution for me and my much-needed quality night of sleep and rest. I …
I don’t need a new blog (which I had written out and have since deleted) detailing Mike’s business. Or my business. Our former business. He deserves privacy, and so do I. Just because I can write about something, doesn’t mean I need to write about something. Not everything needs a public eye. This publicity extends …
I hear you disease. Scanning last nights radiance with scrutinizing eyes, laser focused on the underwear line from the underwear I never wear. The “chest fat”. The lack of definition in my traps. The flatness of my hair. I hear you disease. Not wanting to swipe and not wanting to start a conversation. Then wondering …