At my mother's house. Cozy, nesting. Resting. A place to cocoon and protect and heal. This cat helps.
- It's 1:11 am.
- I am not sleeping well this past week.
- I woke up hungry. Peanut butter and jelly on bread with a glass milk called me. And we're talking white-ass bread, fucking Kraft peanut butter, raspberry jelly. The suburban meal I didn't have growing up, that I'm living now.
- I got up. Made it. Ate it. Instagram-storied it. Made another. Ate that too. Fuck it.
- The truth of the matter is we're going through something. And it's not easy.
- The truth of the matter is also that I'm not ready to share. That there's more to it than meets the eye. That it's private. That it's delicate.
- Most importantly, that it's OK. It's OK now, and things will be OK, no matter how they turn out. I get that now.
- I leak tears from time to time. This is my body processing emotion. It's OK.
- The way he pats my belly, says hi to the kid. Even when things are hard, there is this.
- I miss writing, so much. I'm going to a local writers' group on November 8th. I'm making this happen. It's important to me.
- Bonus one: it's time to go back to bed now.
- Bonus two: but first, this post by Mara Glatzel from May 5. I don't know what exactly in her own life and relationship she was referring to but it is speaking to me like crazy right now.
This post format is 100% inspired by Alisha Sommer's beautiful posts.
Trying out the Squarespace blog app... we’re traveling tomorrow to the US and I won’t be taking my computer with me, but I do want to keep up with blogging.
This was Mittens this morning. I took a photo of her so I can look at it when I miss her (yup, I know, I’m a sook) and it cracks me up because she’s looking at me like, “Come onnnnn, it’s only a week.” Whatever.