fading normally.

I make my bed because I need something to believe in. I need something to remind me that one day, I can look back and say – through it all, I found a shred of normal. I was there, buried beneath the throw pillows and blankets and the colours of my room where I went to find even a shred of normal from a life we used to know.

self-care isn’t selfish.

Take the nap. And the selfie. And extra time when you run through the next drive-thru for a coffee just for you. Use a bathbomb, and read a book, and make time for just yourself. And while you’re at, you’ll find yourself asking: where have I been all my life?

the truth about tummies.

I hope you remember that they call it a journey for a reason. Stay focused on your course. Don’t compare yourself to anyone else. Being authentically you is sexiest of all. Pooch, no pooch, flat, pierced, rock hard or jiggly. You are lovely. And so is your tummy.

The Subtle Art of Parenting Teenagers

I read once that our words become their inner voice. Language counts. When they stare at the mirror and question everything they thought they knew, who will they hear looking back at them? Make sure it’s your voice reminding them that you love them, that you’re proud of them, and that they only thing you expect from them is that they respect themselves.

It really was a jagged little pill

This time, it felt like I just couldn’t take care of business anymore. I could not handle being me anymore. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think, couldn’t wife. The only part that kept me hanging on were my kids. The responsibility to them and my career was all that I left to focus on. The job kept the food on the table. The table was where I fed them. These two factors – my job and my kids – that was all that I was running on. And I was running on clear ass empty.

the empath life chose me

You have to remember that you are capable of being both – awesome, and not awesome. You can be terrific and terrible. But you must be able to accept both, be humbled by either, and aware of each.

You can’t handle the truth

Regardless, I feel like each of us will walk away from this with a new perspective on ourselves. Either stoic in the nostalgia of what a year locked down meant for our mental well-being, or grateful that we endured the brink of disaster and came back with a better understanding of how to care for our fellow human. Our partners. Our kids. Our families. Our colleagues.

Help. I need somebody. HELP! (The Beatles were probably on to something.)

Part of knowing when to seek help hasn’t strictly been about being sad. What sadness can masquerade around as is more like agitation, aggravation. Quickly snapping, or feeling anxious. Jumping to quick conclusion, dissolving into tears. Unable to “take a joke”, or even instruction that become misconstrued as “lecturing”. Before you know it, you’re sitting in the front seat of the cab of your truck, bawling your brains out to your husband in a parking lot – unable to tear yourself away from the outpouring of grief, shouting – I just want someone to care!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!