The winter funk

I am in a funk. So much so, that I haven’t even been compelled to write anything lately.

…and for me, that is rare.

Every January, February, and early March, I find myself here. I don’t know if it is lack of sunshine, an abundance of illness, or just the everyday blah of cold weather and dark nights.

What I do know?  Continue reading



A year ago, I was breaking through. I saw the tunnel. I saw the end. I thought I had reached it. 2017 was coming for me. I was ready. I was ready to kick 2016 to the curb and welcome a good year.

I turned 30. 30 and 2017 were going to be my year.

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Teaching through trauma

I have spent the last four years working at elementary schools in various capacities. I have known, for awhile, that education is the career for me. It just took me some time to take the leap and go back to school to earn a second degree.

School was a safe place for me. Growing up, when life was crazy, chaotic, and traumatic, school represented a place where I could go and be free. Loved.

Throughout my schooling, there were a few individuals who saved me. The teachers who saw who I was, and encouraged me to do my best. The teachers who embraced me and made me feel loved and supported. The ones who saw beyond the messy hair or messed up clothes. The ones who didn’t care that my parents didn’t show to parent/teacher conferences and told me I was smart anyway.

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Hitting the Nail on the Head

Therapy is such a process.

There have been times when I have wondered: Is it time to be done?

The reality? I still have a long way to go.

I had been doing a lot better. I had been having much longer spaces between therapy sessions…from weekly, to twice a month, to once every three weeks, to, almost, once a month.

But then, another setback.

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Daughter Guilt

I’ve always been the type of person to avoid confrontation. For me, it is more than just unpleasant–it is emotionally fueled, painful, and anxiety provoking.

It has always been easier…better…to just be the peacemaker. The nurturer.

I was cultivated into this role from an early age. The first person that I tried to avoid confrontation with is a person that I still try to avoid confrontation with: my mother.

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Hug me closely. 

Hold me. 

Smell my hair and cherish me.

I am yours. 


The world is not a perfect place. There is not one person in it that can claim complete and utter perfection.

Oh, there are plenty who will try…and there are those who do…but we are all imperfect beings, fallible and flawed.

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A grateful heart

Last night, I got hit with a wave of emotions.

It started as I finished reading a really deep, romantic novel. Each time I read a book in this genre, I start to feel melancholy. I look at the way the book portrays romantic love, and grieve over the fact that my love looks so much different.

I stayed up entirely too late reading this book. Around midnight, I snuck upstairs and crawled into bed. I felt a little battle-worn.  Continue reading