Balance. And a Clean Coffee Pot.

I washed my coffee pot today. I know, people give zero shits about the cleanliness of my coffee pot. I care though. Mostly because I don’t clean it often. My dad hated his coffee pot clean. He also hated his coffee mug and Yogi Bear spoon to be cleaned. He said that the coffee tasted better if brewed and consumed from a well-love pot. I agree.

It’s just every time I have to clean the coffee pot I’m forced to think of him. Not that I don’t think of him often, because I do, but it makes me think of him in a way that really makes me miss him. And missing him can be really hard at times. Really hard.

Continue reading “Balance. And a Clean Coffee Pot.”


Catastrophizing. And Dryer Lint.

Right now, in this moment, I don’t feel awesome. I want to toss up my hands and go on a rampage. No real good reason, this is how it starts.

The furnace isn’t working properly AND the dog chewed on one of the kids’ toys and puked. Those two things happening nearly simultaneously has caused my shoulders to rise and my jaw to clench. Also, I cleaned the dryer lint catcher thingy and it was full which made me notice how filthy the top of the dryer was which caused me conclude that WE LIVE IN SQUALER. And! At any moment now the people from Hoarders are going to show up on my door step with a camera crew.

Any. Moment. Now.

Maybe I should put on a pot of coffee for them? They probably drink coffee.

Continue reading “Catastrophizing. And Dryer Lint.”

It’s Monday.

I briefly mentioned that mindfulness was part of my mental health strategy. I shall elaborate.

I’ve been on a path for nearly three years.

I quietly suffered from an unhealthy mind for almost 20 years. I made half-assed attempts to seek help but never fully admitted I had a problem until March 2013.

A sadness that overwhelms the body and mind is a sadness needing professional help.

I like to envision my path at times. Reflect on my personal growth.

It’s in the woods.

Continue reading “It’s Monday.”

I am a Victim of the 90’s brow.

I hated my eyebrows growing up. Hated them. They were gigantic and weird and I think they were five hairs away from connecting. As a gift for my 15th birthday my mom, who went to beautician school, tweezed my eyebrows for me. In hindsight, they were perfect. She taught me how to keep them cleaned up and I took it from there. At some point, unsure when, I just kept tweezing…

and tweezing…

and tweezing…

Continue reading “I am a Victim of the 90’s brow.”

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