Foggy waters



  1. I've got the feeling of being scrubbed raw. A layer taken off your soul. I know, that sounds dramatic. But it's real. 
  2. Christmas is a-coming. I want to pick out gifts for the people I love but I'm damn tired. I think I'll make a Pinterest board instead. Everyone's getting gift cards! In the meantime I'll be here listening to Michael Buble's Christmas album.
  3. I love that feeling when you remember an album that feels like it speaks right to you. In lyrics, in beats, in stories. Right now it's HERE by Alicia Keys. Earbuds in, and this is like juice right to me. 
  4. Someday, I think. I'll be thriving again. What will that look like? What will that feel like? Will I have my own place? Will I have money issues? What's going to happen to me? To me and the kiddo? What will life look like? 
  5. Driving an hour each way every day. Staying with my mother. Wondering how much to say publicly. Who to tell. The word like a whisper, a crack in ice spreading. "Break-up." A tragedy some minutes. A revelation, a freedom, in others. He hasn't told anyone yet except his parents. Why not? Is this happening or is it not? 
  6. Is there hope? I don't know. Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. Will we get back together? I mean, who can tell the future? And if they could, would I believe them? 
  7.  Breathe. "Pick a word and just focus on that," or whatever the book said.
  8. The night, so dark. I get out of my car and there are no outside lights on. It is pitch black. I feel so alone. I stand in the middle of the driveway and sob. 
  9. Other times I am laughing, at movies or at tweets or at other things. Other times I am texting with close friends and it is OK. It is going to be OK. 
  10. I write here because it's my space. My writing space. "You could just keep it in a journal," says the critic in my head. Yeah, but... I've been doing that. For a month now. And I'm starting to feel ready to let people know, people other than my nearest and dearest. There is still hope we'll get back together, but there is also reality. This is my reality right now. Pregnant. Broken up. Navigating the foggy waters, seeing what life will look like. What it does look like, right now. One day at a time. And, I'm remembering, this is what I do, to get through. I write about it. (It helps that I don't think anyone reads this blog unless I specifically point them to it with a link from Instagram.)




the truth of the matter is

  1. It's 1:11 am.
  2. I am not sleeping well this past week. 
  3. 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.
  4. I got up. Made it. Ate it. Instagram-storied it. Made another. Ate that too. Fuck it.
  5. The truth of the matter is we're going through something. And it's not easy. 
  6. 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. 
  7. 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. 
  8. I leak tears from time to time. This is my body processing emotion. It's OK.
  9. The way he pats my belly, says hi to the kid. Even when things are hard, there is this.
  10. 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. 
  11. Bonus one: it's time to go back to bed now. 
  12. 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.

Monday Monday


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.