For Dessert I Got A Stomach Ache

Every other time I see my mom she comments on an alleged figure reduction. I try to ignore it but enough is enough.

I am confessing. For dinner I had old Peeps and sour patch kids and washed it down with a milk shake.

I couldn't hold it in any longer, Mom. I eat like a child and now it's out for everyone to see.

Focus On One Spot And Breathe

I have moved 13 times since 2004. Saturday marks the 14th. Don't believe me? Neither did I, I re-counted 4 times.

Each move brings the same internal conversation.

"WWWWWWHHHHHYYYYYY!!!!!????"
"Because you chose this, you idiot. You said you needed a change. You wanted new furniture and a new bed and new setting. You wanted a new view and you wanted to spend a nasty amount of money buying things for a new place you will move from in a blink."
"Oh, right."

I am freakkkkking out.

It was just he and I at the lake. Standard operation. He backs the trailer in and I drive the boat off. I was 20 and he thought it was well part of my maturation to know how to pull a boat trailer. He suggested I take over. "Just swing wide," he said.

I went wide alright. So wide, in fact, that I somehow clipped the side of a dumpster with the passenger side of the trailer and drug it 8 feet.

It caused damage. It cost money to repair. It took maneuvering to get the boat back on the trailer. And as I apologized to my dad, he told me I was better prepared than before. His compassion for my imperfections trickled into every experience we had. He isn't hasty and quick to blame like men are want to be. He sees me as extremely capable and is surprised anytime I failed.

Me me me memememeMeeeme

Being young and single and having sole access to a bank account and cooking (reheating) for one is a strange thing. So is sleeping alone in a bed built for two and planning weekends in Houston by myself and entertaining myself in the middle of the night. It's abnormal actually. Narcissistic.

This thought derived from the most self absorbed thought I think I've ever had. While looking at my blog stats I thought, "wow, that's how many people did something good today by reading what I have to say." Dear Me, REALLY?!? You equate people reading this website to doing something good for the humanity? Maybe if it was full of quotes from Martin Luther King and President Monson... Yeah. But Drake and Taylor Swift? No.

I have an outlet and a sharp mind and I choose to talk about yoga and bread and my hair and my dad and my relationships. I need a reality check and a slap in the face.

Girl, you deserve nothing but the best

Today was a premium reminder that stress, worry, fear, and over consumption are all futile. I was reminded of a lesson I've been learning, a song I've been singing, a soap box I've had both feet on for years.

Everything Will Be Alright. Not some things. Not the easy things. EVERYTHING. And now I have the Killers song stuck in my head. And also a Jesse McCartney song. Because multitasking is my mind's favorite trick.

I had a dream

I was watching you from afar. I felt close enough to touch, but you couldn't see me. I stayed quiet in case you heard me. I was watching your thoughts and they were all about me. I was confused about the distance. I didn't know how it changed so dramatically. I was scared to be so far.

Real Talk

Because deep down we really just want someone to tell our secrets to and listen and laugh at the same things and have the same sleep schedule, but we don't want to feel that pain in your gut when you're not sure.

We want to be humble and happy but we don't want to have to change or sacrifice.

We don't want to be the only one left alone but we don't want to be the one to stand up, give up our habits, cook dinner, share the remote and forgive repeatedly.

The Smell Of Unscented Hand Soap

When I was 8 years old, my best friend got a headache. We were playing at my house and she had to lay on the couch with a wet rag to wait until her mom could pick her up.

6 hours later I was visiting her in the hospital after she had suffered a stroke leaving the left side of her body immobile. I remember seeing her family very concerned. I remember the hospital room was bigger than in the movies. Bigger than the room I visited my mother in 2 years prior when Nikka was born. I remember everyone sent flowers and balloons and the room was pugent. The scents didn't match and it bothered me.

She lay there so helpless. I felt so helpless. I just sat and watched her. She was a completely different person. To explain a stroke my parents used the example of my Nana, who suffered the same fatality. I couldn't associate my best friend with my Nana. So she will become Cranky and fragile? 8 years old. I couldn't wrap my small mind around sickness, death, mortality. So young and niave. Tragedy is so abnormal to me. Something that effects other people. Something I shouldn't have to spend time with.

Random Thoughts

Music doesn't help. Work doesn't help. Yoga helps but it's only 70 minutes. Family helps but they have lives. Speaking at church on Sunday. The only thing I have planned so far is the title; Life Is Hard. I want to be gone this weekend but I have commitments. I'm feeling very nonjudgmental today. Except I feel irritated at people who are judgmental so that is wrong. Where will I live? What's for breakfast? How is it the middle of April? If the weather was bad I wouldn't be okay. Luckily April in Texas is heavenly.

Small talk. Work and the weather.

I WANT SOMEONE TO READ THIS SO EVERYONE WILL STOP THINKING I AM SO OKAY

Can't stop thinking about that day. So normal. Chipotle for lunch. Wore black and brown to be defiant. The look on my moms face. The tears in my brothers eyes. The way the room spins. It was the closest I've ever been to Hollywood. So dramatic. So awkward. There were dirges playing in my mind. There have been dirges Playing since then

NOW PLAYING

Another Home For Henri. An ABC Family Original Movie starring me and my all white mutt. A tale of a normal girl turned crazy by being awoken at 2 am to scratching and yelping, coming home to half eaten loaves of bread and Crisco packages.

A dog so talented that the only safe place for the chocolate is above the refrigerator... In a safe... From Fort Knox...

So... Anyone interested?

Come. Back.

No one expected anything from me on that day. Everyone expected the repeated panic attacks in my bathroom or in the car or at the service. It was normal on that day. They expected the words out of my mouth to be fake and abrupt. They expected me to not eat anything. No one wondered how I was doing because the answer was evident in my eyes. And in my shoes. And my words. And in what we had just endured. It felt okay to be sad but also to laugh and enjoy the day because it was Saturday and the weather was nice and all my friends and family were together. I wasn't tired because I associated sleeping with being scared and alone which I was avoiding. People kept offering me medicine but I refused because it felt so normal to feel this way. Normal to cry and then laugh and then lose concentration midsentence and to get short of breath while sitting still.

And, today, that behavior is not acceptable.

Suffocating in the Sarcasm

Listening to One and Only by ADELE on repeat. So sappy. Thanks to Miss. Dew for her tweet which reminded me to get the new Adele album which has made it impossible to listen to ANYTHING else for the last week. She is just describing love exactly how I would if I were eloquent. Just the same way that Taylor Swift sings about all her insecurities and speaks to my soul. What happened to me that I am no longer satisfied with a beat, bass, and obscene lyrics?

Friday Tender Mercies

Woke up with clear skin. Miraculously.
Woke up next to Nikka. Miraculously.
Listening to Thank Me Later, which wasn't possible for the past month.
Going back to my second home today; the state of my maturation, the place where my original best friends and my man and my grandma reside.
The sun is back after a 4 day moratorium.
Bought a pair of size 6 pants yesterday.
My dog only ate one cotton ball this morning. Miracle.