Author Archives: Lawsy

Who You Are Right Now

Everyday. Ten Minutes. No stopping. Barely edited.

“There is no need to do anything but rest in the fullness of who you are right now.”

This is what a tarot card said to me last night, but it’s also pretty basic wisdom.

Is there anything scarier than being happy where we are? We are meant to always be striving to be better, to be improving, to be progressing. But what about being where we are?

It’s so much easier to look at what we don’t have, what isn’t perfect, what we’ve lost, what we’ve failed at. It feels productive to beat ourselves up. To keep “shoulding” ourselves. But maybe, everything is okay. We are always whole, even when we are broken.

“There is no need to do anything but rest in the fullness of who you are right now.”

I understand this intellectually and I see the truth of this statement but how do I actually feel it, how do I apply it to myself?

I feel restless in my own skin. It itches. I don’t like who I am physically. Not because of how I look, though sometimes it’s that too, but because I live in a body that doesn’t work how I want it to. Constant pain. Lack of coordination. Organs and muscles not functioning right. All things I can work on, but I’m not where or how I want to be now.

I can’t remember the last time I truly felt “good enough” just the way I was. In theory, I get it, I’m awesome and capable. But in practice, I’m just not enough.

“There is no need to do anything but rest in the fullness of who you are right now.”

I don’t feel full, I feel empty. But there are moments of calm when I feel like I can rest in the emptiness of who I am right now.

#3

Everyday. Ten Minutes. No stopping. Barely edited.

It’s only day three and too soon to give up. I had a haunting dream last night. And it haunted me all day. A little girl was mad, because things hadn’t gone her way. Is she my subconscious or is she someone real? She said I was supposed to be her mother. That I had to make things right and find her. I promised I would. I would find her, wherever she is. She said she didn’t know where she was going now. I told her I would find her. I would adopt her if she ended up in the wrong place or I would bring her into this world with my own body. Somehow. I don’t know if she’s already here somewhere or if she’s still waiting.

I have complicated feelings about motherhood. Because I know it’s in the cards for me. But I just don’t know how. There are many ways to be a mother.

I had visions of all the places this girl could be born. In Syria, in Africa, in Detroit, in Haiti, in Mexico, next door, or with me in a hospital with any number of men who could be her father. Any path could bring her to me.

Or maybe she is me. The me that is young, and wild, and free. Little girls are the strongest kind of people I know. They’re creative and resilient. They don’t mind skin knees and they hang upside down.

I’m afraid of motherhood. I don’t know if I want to have a little girl because I want to be a little girl again. I don’t want to worry what people think. I want to wear leggings and oversized t-shirts and pigtails.

I want to laugh and invent games with my friends and check out piles of books from the library.

I want to roll in the grass with my dog. I want the world where the only thing I had to blog about was puppies and the cast of Harry Potter. And quizzes about what kind of fruit I am.

I’m lucky because my childhood is not dead. My childhood friends are still close. Connected through social media and visits once or twice a year but always in my heart.

Little girls bend and do the splits like it’s nothing. Well, not me, I’ve never been able to touch my toes. Not even in grade school. But still, the sentiment of flexibility is there. But I’ve always had too much tension.

My body is full of tension and it finally caught up to me. It keeps me from doing all the things I want to. I don’t know if my small frame and strained muscles will ever be a home for new life. I never quite feel comfortable or free. But that’s a feeling that can come from within, despite the physical pain, we can be comfortable with ourselves.

I bought a house.

Everyday. Ten Minutes. No stopping. Unedited.
I don’t like poetry, but I do like spacing out lines…

I bought a house
Because I was suddenly homeless
So it seemed like the smart thing to do.

It has a great backyard
With a broken fence
And the cutest rooms
With slanted floors
And unsafe windows

Many things were surprisingly easy to fix
And many things are still broken

I live in a broken house
But I am broken too
And it was there for me
When I needed a roof

I bought a house
With a driveway that’s all cracked
And a garage door that won’t close
Or once it’s closed, it won’t open

The cabinets are ugly
But basically new
The lighting is fancy
And hard to replace
But easier when
You actually buy the right bulb

I was mad at first
That I left my nice house
For this.
It’s old and unloved
And garbage was left behind
That the water isn’t soft
And makes my hair a mess

But now I see
That this broken house is just like me
I moved in and was broken
And some things in me are easy to fix
And some are now permanently slanted
The foundation has changed
But that doesn’t mean
I can’t hold myself up

They tore up the walls
And dug up the ground
To make the windows bigger
“The wound is the place
Where the light enters you.”

This place is not permanent
Not a forever home
Because there’s no forever
No certainty in life anymore

But it is a place that was there
When I needed it most

And how can I be mad at this
imperfect house
When it’s
just
like
me?

Being a Writer

Everyday. Ten Minutes. No stopping. Unedited.
[Was going to try for 25 minutes but the attention span is too short].

I call myself a writer, but what am every day that passes that I do not write?

Just a thinker.

A conspirer.

The ideas never go away. They can’t leave because they haven’t been released. They swirl and swirl until they become a fog. They flash like lightning, begging to be noticed. Begging to be tamed and brought inside.

I know if I wrote every day I’d be just as happy as if I ran every day. It’s different kinds of endorphins. Or maybe it’s exactly the same. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.

Which makes it that much scarier to try. Because trying means failing. And what happens when you fail at the thing you love the most?

It’s a feeling I know too well.

Once you lose the thing most important to you and survive it almost feels like you can do anything.

And failing is succeeding but it never feels that way. It feels like stabs in the heart. But your heart never stops beating even when it takes a beating. It pumps and pumps more blood to the wounds. Blood that fills your ears and your head. Heartbeats that are too fast and send your body into panic…but they keep you alive. Even when that’s the last thing you want.

The critics are everywhere now. Everyone has a keyboard.

There was a story I tried to write several times. I thought it was my story to tell. But they took it and revised it down to the bones.

Almost every time someone’s had told me I had a bad idea it ended up being a good one.

And so many ideas that I thought were good were very bad.

My worst ideas were some of my favorite ones.

Writing is only good if you’re vulnerable. And being vulnerable is hardest, best thing in the world. So when you write you get to do the hardest and the best thing in the world. But also you have to.

I’ve written everywhere. On planes, in cars, in bed, in bathtubs, on park benches outside of theaters, and anywhere else you can eat green eggs and ham. Besides being the hardest thing to do it is the easiest thing to do. It’s as easy as breathing…for someone who has asthma.

Happy Galentine’s Day!

I’ve seen/heard too many people this year saying/writing, “Is Galentine’s Day really a thing?”

Yes, Virginia, Galentine’s Day is a thing. It’s just one of the many marvelous things Leslie Knope has given us.

It is not a holiday invented by sad girls who don’t have Valentine’s. It’s a day for ladies to celebrate ladies…I mean, it’s not like we get to celebrate ladies on Presidents Day so we gotta have our own day.

For Galentine’s Day I wanted to write 100 notes to 100 ladies I love and admire, but well, I’m exhausted and the best I can do for now is this generic blog post. But know I’ve been thinking about you individually and it’s my goal to write those notes between now and International Women’s Day.

Why do we need to celebrate ladies? Well, because they’re awesome.

They’re the best friends. They’re the ones who are with you through bad breakups, bad haircuts, bad cramps. They’re the ones who encourage you and congratulate you. They’re roommates you love (and sometimes hate) that you stay up all night with and regret it in the morning. They’re sisters(-in-laws), moms, aunts, cousins, and people who feel like blood relatives even if they aren’t. They’re the women who have known me for YEARS and still want to be my friend. They’re my friend who told me I had to write this blog post even though I said I was too tired.

They’re my bakery WOMEN. Yes, only women work at Sodalicious’s bakery and it’s not sexist it’s just an awesome sorority that gets paid to bake all day long for the Sodalicious cookie consumers in Utah and Idaho. (p.s. we’re hiring)

I’m grateful for the many beautiful, talented, supportive women in my life. Scattered throughout this post will be photos from the 9th Annual Galentine’s Photoshoot, but this doesn’t just apply to these ladies–though it definitely does apply to them–it applies to my many, amazing female friends and the many amazing women I haven’t met yet that I know will touch my life.

gal3.jpg

It’s the women who held my hand during the hardest times in my life. The women who answer the phone every time I call. The ones who have made me/bought me dinner when I didn’t feel like eating. The ones who made sure I didn’t eat alone. Women who have taken me in during the various points in my life that I needed a place to crash. It’s the old lady I met ten years ago in Hungary who talked to me for an entire bus ride even though she knew I couldn’t understand her.

It’s the women who have given me fashion advice. The ones who encouraged me to be myself, even when myself is kind of crazy. It’s the women who looked me in the eye and said, “you got this, girl.” It’s the ones that I’ve been able to say the same thing right back to.

gal1.jpg

The moms. My own, who is perfect, of course. But all the ladies out there who dare to be moms. Who are strong enough to raise a new generation and to survive sleepless nights and public tantrums. You’re the real MVPs. Especially those of you who do it again after you already know how hard it is to have one.

It’s the women who aren’t moms in the traditional sense but still exhibit all the mom-like qualities like being good at finding stuff and giving good advice and good hugs.

gal4.jpg

It is the women who gave me a shot. My friend who directed my musical at her high school when she could’ve had (almost) any musical she wanted. It’s the women who have hired me on jobs that I didn’t feel qualified for.

It’s women who are examples to me whether they know it or not. The friends I haven’t seen in ages who are brave enough to post about their struggles with cancer on social media. The ones who have lost babies. The ones who struggle with health issues that affect their bodies and minds but they keep on going. The women who have survived great tragedies and overcome challenges I can’t imagine. They give me the strength to face my own battles and they may not even know it.

gal5.jpg

The women who are doing whatever the heck they want despite society saying they can’t, or despite the fact that no other woman has done it before. The women who are perfect in their imperfections. YOU. If you’re reading this I’m talking about YOU (men too, but I gotta give ladies this one day…Well, and March 8th too…I gotta give them these two days).

So happy February 13th! Go grab your ladies and get yourselves some breakfast food.

gal2.jpg

xoxo,
Your Galentine

Swiftism: The Art of Nothing Being Your Fault

This post was written a year ago and then “saved to drafts” I decided now was a good time to finish it. 

Some of you might know that I thoroughly enjoyed Taylor Swift’s album Red. I think Taylor riding the line between country and pop was a great place. She had the storytelling aspect of country music with the can’t-get-out-of-your-head benefit of pop music.

But, like Taylor Swift herself has taught me, you can see all the things that were wrong as soon as the relationship is over. I was excited when the single Shake it Off was released. I felt inspired. I felt happy that a great and fun music video went along with it. I thought, “Look at her, inspiring youth to shake off their troubles and shake off the haters.” I also enjoy the song Mean. Sometimes you need a good “you suck and I don’t” song. Then, 1989 came out. I bought it the day it came out.  I bought it at Target so I could get the bonus tracks, those photocopied polaroids, and everything. I proceeded to listen to an entire album in my crappy Dodge Neon (this was before the CD drive broke) and I realize I’m listening to an entire album about Harry Styles. Minus that song about Lena Denham.

Update: Three years post 1989 and the Dodge Neon is still alive. No one would’ve guessed that.

Breakup songs are pretty great. I do not agree with the criticism Taylor gets for writing breakup songs. Music should be used for catharsis. You should write what you feel. I’ve never thought the “Oh just wait til she writes a song about you” jokes were that good. We want someone to write songs for us to sing/scream along to when we are mad at people.

I enjoyed “Bad Blood.” It helped me release feelings about certain ex-flames at the time. I thought this is a great breakup song. Then it comes out that it’s about Katy Perry. Then this ridiculous music video comes out. Now, if I had lots of money and was famous I would totally do a music video starring me and all my famous friends and random celebrities from television shows and Kendrick Lamar. I would do that. Would I give us all weird nicknames and have us jumping around with nunchucks? Probably not.

So now I can’t even enjoy the breakup song on the album that I liked because it’s about hating girls and because the music video was beyond my comprehension. The songs are full of pop goodness and danceability but something is missing.

Before I get to my essay on how Taylor magnificently alludes anything being her fault I want to talk about one thing she DOES do, but wrongly takes credit for. Red lipstick. The way she sings about it you’d think she was the only one who has ever worn red lipstick. But one google search will tell you, “Ancient Sumerian men and women were possibly the first to invent and wear lipstick, about 5,000 years ago. They crushed gemstones and used them to decorate their faces, mainly on the lips and around the eyes. Also Egyptians like Cleopatra crushed bugs to create a colour of red on their lips.”

Put crushed bugs on your lips, then I’ll be impressed. But you’re still 5,000 years behind.

I think there must be a lot of pressure having everyone following your every move. But I also think about how hard it is for me not having a private jet. I would be lying if I haven’t been endlessly amused since I received the following text last night:

“Oh my gaaaaaaaaaaaawshhhhh! WATCH KIM K’S SNAP STORY RIGHT NOW. You never thought you’d hear me say this but oh my gosh.”

Here is why Kim Kardashian “exposing” Taylor Swift is so great, according to me:

Kim Kardashian is this woman who is constantly criticized for her choices. She makes herself available to that criticism by having a reality show and as far as I can tell has very little interest in censoring herself. She’s very public and we’ve seen more of her (literally) than we have of most celebrities.

Taylor Swift never gets her unflattering photos posted all-over (edit: until this Reputation album art, I’m surprised she approved that), she is front-page news when she does something good, she wins every award, and when she does she gives perfectly calculated speeches about how much she’s doing for women and how she’s risen above all the people who’ve tried to bring her down. WE WERE NOT EVEN SURE SHE HAD A BELLY BUTTON AT ONE POINT, that’s how little we know about Taylor Swift. She wins every time she goes through a breakup. She surrounds herself with cool, talented, and good-looking people.

So where along this journey did we decide Taylor Swift was an inspiration for women?

Taylor Swift (2006).

So go and tell your friends that I’m obsessive and crazy
That’s fine!
You won’t mind
If I say
By the way

I hate that
Stupid old pickup truck
You never let me drive
You’re a redneck heartbreak
Who’s really bad at lying
So watch me strike a match
On all my wasted time
As far as I’m concerned you’re
Just another picture to burn

(Picture to Burn)
You should’ve said “No”, you should’ve gone home
You should’ve thought twice ‘fore you let it all go
You should’ve known that word, with what you did with her,
Get back to me (get back to me).
And I should’ve been there in the back of your mind
I shouldn’t be asking myself, “Why?”
You shouldn’t be begging for forgiveness at my feet…
You should’ve said “No”, baby, and you might still have me
(Should’ve Said No)
Key phrase here is: You should’ve 

Fearless (2008).

I’m tryin’ so hard not to get caught up now
But you’re just so cool
Run your hands through your hair
Absent-mindedly makin’ me want you
And I don’t know how it gets better than this
You take my hand and drag me head first
Fearless
And I don’t know why but with you I’d dance in a storm in my best dress
Fearless
(Fearless)

When you’re fifteen and someone tells you they love you, you’re gonna believe it.
(Fifteen)

Say you’re sorry
That face of an angel
Comes out just when you need it to
As I paced back and forth all this time
‘Cause I honestly believed in you
Holding on
The days drag on
Stupid girl,
I should have known, I should have known

(White Horse)

All this time I was wasting,
Hoping you would come around
I’ve been giving out chances every time
And all you do is let me down
(You’re Not Sorry)
Baby what happened? Please tell me
‘Cause one second it was perfect, now you’re halfway out the door
And I stare at the phone, he still hasn’t called
And then you feel so low you cant feel nothing at all
And you flashback to when he said forever and always
(Forever and Always)

And we know it’s never simple, never easy.
Never a clean break, no one here to save me.
You’re the only thing I know like the back of my hand,

(Breathe)
Speak Now (2010)
The battle’s in your hands now
But I would lay my armor down
If you’d say you’d rather love than fight
(The Story of Us)

Okay, she does have one song where she apologizes, Back to December

But this is me swallowing my pride
Standing in front of you saying I’m sorry for that night
And I go back to December
It turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you
Wishing I’d realized what I had when you were mine
I’d go back to December turn around and make it all right
(Back to December)
Red (2012)

I knew you were trouble when you walked in, so shame on me now, 

No apologies. He’ll never see you cry,
Pretends he doesn’t know that he’s the reason why.
You’re drowning, you’re drowning, you’re drowning.
Now I heard you moved on from whispers on the street
A new notch in your belt is all I’ll ever be
And now I see, now I see, now I see

He was long gone when he met me
And I realize the joke is on me, yeah!
(I Knew You Were Trouble)

1989 (2014)
Fade into view, oh, it’s been a while since I have even heard from you (heard from you)
I should just tell you to leave ’cause I
Know exactly where it leads but I
Watch us go ’round and ’round each time
(Style)
In I Wish You Would she admits that she wishes she hadn’t hung up the phone like she did and that she’s not mad anymore. But she still says,
You always knew how to push my buttons 
You give me everything and nothing 
This mad, mad love makes you come rushing
Stand back where you stood 
I wish you would, I wish you would 
Many of her lyrics include things like, “I know you were trouble when you walked in, so shame on me.” So while she’s not taking the blame publicly, it’s obvious that she’s blaming herself, but not in a healthy way. It’s her fault but only because she trusted someone who let her down.
It’s agonizing. Feeling like things are your fault but not taking ownership is a sad place to be in. It’s not decisive. She can’t forgive other people and she can’t forgive herself. The only way for it to be okay that she’s made mistakes is if the rest of the world understands it’s someone else’s fault.
Not being able to let things go, or “shake it off” rather, is physically and mentally painful and I feel for her.
Finally, she writes Blank Space and we think, cool, she’s owning her crazy. We’re all a little crazy sometimes. And there is the possibility that even though we’ve been hurt and played by boys in our lives that doesn’t mean that we haven’t done any damage ourselves. It didn’t make me think any less of her—well, until the music video came out and I watched her almost hit herself in the head with an axe.
But then in every interview, she says, “That’s not me, it’s just a song about who people think I am.” With that, she went from being relatable to being untouchable again.
Post the Kimye scandal Taylor proclaimed on all her social media channels,

“I Would Very Much Like To Be Excluded From This Narrative”

To which we responded, “wouldn’t we all.” But, once again, she had an opportunity to say. “Yeah, I did say that stuff and…” she changed her mind, or she was okay with it and didn’t realize the consequence, or whatever she’s feeling.

I would really like to think that she’s just writing these songs for money and that they are part of her healing process but when I heard Look What You Made Me Do I did not feel like that was the case.

First of all, it’s literally called Look What You Made Me Do. Pause for eye rolls. This has been her thing all along. Someone made her do something. See lyrics above.

No one makes Taylor do anything. Maybe a few years ago but not now. She’s rich and powerful. Second of all, I listened to the whole song twice and I’m still not sure what we made her do.

The lyrics go from oversimplified statements, cliches, confusing phrases, and barely veiled threats. It’s the kind of thing you write in your journal right after someone wrongs you, but you never release it to the public or even read it out loud to your best friend until you’ve done another draft.

Personally, I would’ve dropped the Kanye stuff altogether because it’s been a year and we’ve all forgotten about it. I didn’t want to post this blog even a week after the incident because it was already old news. But she’s bringing it back to our attention. And there’s no question about who she’s talking about because she called out his “tilted stage” which according to the song she does not like.

I’m not sure what she’s getting at because picking a fight with the Kardashian-Wests seems like a bad way to go. They have a different fan base than she does, so she’s not going to win them over. The Kardashians are both untouchable and the butt of every joke so people who love them always will and people who don’t are probably thinking, “Why do you even care what they think?” Also, using the same font on her merch that Kanye used on his just feels weird.

Taylor isn’t obligated to be a role-model for the world, but her lyrics do become part of our culture’s language and “Look What You Made Me Do” is not a phrase that should be prominent in anyone’s conversations, in my opinion. Thinking back to the “I” language you learn in elementary school, “I feel ____ when you do _____.” is fine, but thinking someone else controls what we do is dangerous and not in the slightest way empowering.
If you feel inspired by this song, I honestly want to know your side of things, because the song didn’t make me feel anything but sorry for Taylor. And I’m assuming the Wests are having a good laugh at it.
The song, album art, and the names are so bad that I’m waiting to find out that this is actually an SNL skit or some sort of Katy Perry revenge. Taylor can write good pop. And this isn’t it.
Now, because I think constructive criticism is better if you offer suggestions for improvement instead of just criticizing. Here are some things I would love to hear from Taylor. Maybe some of them will be on the album, but with a title like Reputation I’m not hopeful.

The Ups and Downs of being in a Girl Squad.

A song about how she has a friend that things are good with (which she does, right?)

My Relationship with Hiddleston was a Joke, Got You.

Look What I Did Because I’m a Grown Adult and I Make My Own Choices Good or Bad.

You Can’t Make Me Do Anything.

A song about being excused from the narrative that is as good as Burn from Hamilton.

It’s Okay to Have Feelings

It’s Great to be Rich (I mean, just own it at this point)

You Can’t Grab My A** And Get Away With It

A song about how she loves her mom

I Didn’t Want You to Know I Wrote it Until I Wanted You to Know I Wrote it.

Calvin Harris Isn’t Even His Real Name
Etc.
I think Taylor’s got a lot to give, but if she keeps going done this path of obsessing over her reputation and holding onto grudges she’s going to implode from the emotional strain. Like her music or not, I don’t wish that on anyone.

Happy Another-Year-of-Life Day

Celebrating each year is really just celebrating that you stayed alive for another year. Is the mere act of staying alive worth celebrating? In the past, I thought no. This year, however, I’m going to argue that, yes, it is worth celebrating another year of “just” staying alive.

Recently, a person I knew committed suicide [trigger warning]. It was shocking and sad. He was someone I didn’t have to know long to know he had a good heart.The night of the incident, he caused some property damage and emotional distress to other people before taking his life so there was a police report posted about it.

One comment on the post said, “it was too bad he hadn’t been able to get help.”

And someone replied, “You can’t help people who don’t want to be helped.”

There are always occasions to get into fights with people on Facebook but this was one of the most tempting. I had “evidence” to prove this Facebook commenter wrong. On my friend’s Facebook and blog there was countless evidence about how he had sought out ways to make his life better. One month prior to the incident he had posted about going on medication and how it was helping. He had been getting himself out of debt and working hard at his job. But even without “evidence”…how can we judge who is seeking help or not? And someone who needs help is not always in a position to ask or seek it out. It is, to sum it up, really hard.

Here’s the thing about me, and many people I love, we struggle with depression.

Now, for me personally, I have been seeing a therapist, reading books on different treatments (I can never plug The Body Keeps the Score enough), got on medication, got on birth control, write, started eating healthy, try to exercise every day, got an emotional support animal, have an emotional support husband, talk to people struggling similarly, draw, spend time outside, think about doing yoga, “take it easy”, try to be kind to myself, eliminated stressful situations, spend time with friends, spend time away from everyone, meditate, pray, breathe, take showers, take baths, write jokes, take time to love and take care of my body. Etc. etc. etc.

And guess what? I’m still depressed sometimes. Really. And sometimes it feels like there’s no way out, everything’s the worst, and nothing’s worth it, and nobody likes me, everybody hates me, and I should just go eat worms.

If there was some magic pill or magic way to be cured everyone would do it. No one wants to be sad, being sad sucks.

If we can acknowledge that birthdays, being alive another year, are worth celebrating maybe we can judge people a little less who struggle daily. For me, the times it feels the worst is when I’m embarrassed that I’m doing every flipping thing I can to keep it under control and I still feel crappy some days. It feels hopeless. I feel weak. I feel like I am less than a normal human and don’t contribute anything to society. At the same time I know, in my soul, that I am a worthwhile, strong, capable human…which somehow makes it worse, like being punched in the heart from opposite sides. And I already feel judged whether anyone is judging or not, so, judgers can save themselves the effort.

If you’re feeling like life is too hard some days, it’s not because you’re weak, or you’re a quitter, or because you “don’t want help.” And I know from experience that those kinds of thoughts feel worse because you don’t think you can talk to anyone about them. I hope you know there is a hotline you can call but I also hope you have at least a couple people in your life you can call as well. Even if you don’t have depression with a capital “D” make sure you know it’s okay to not feel 100% 100% of the time.

I think overall it’s getting better, people are more open-minded about mental illness but it is still so embarrassing to talk about and I wish it wasn’t. For myself and for the many others out there.

So, hi, I’m Lauren. I’m depressed. I don’t like talking about it, but I will if it makes anyone else feel better. Maybe if you think I’m normal (keyword if) and you know I have depression you can realize that there are lots of good normal-ish people who struggle and if you struggle yourself you can know you’re not alone.

I think it’s worth trying everything you can do to heal but I also am not going to judge anyone who looks like “they’re not trying.” Because the one thing I know is that I cannot possibly know what someone else is feeling or what they are capable of at any given point in time.

I didn’t know what it was like before. I didn’t know, until I experienced it, what it could feel like to feel like garbage…that has been lit on fire and run over by a steamroller…while being hit by those medieval spiky balls on a stick things…in the heart. I know there are people who have it much worse than I do (which honestly makes me more depressed to think about because my empathy goes on overdrive) and I’m grateful for the many days I have that I do feel happy and well. And I’m grateful for the many things that have made this past year so great and I’m excited to see what the next year brings.

Here’s to making it to another birthday and hopefully this can be your reminder that even on your darkest days that it’s worth making it to your next birthday. xoxo