August 16, 2017

three hundred sixty five days



Some words I wrote on Instagram this morning: "You can ask someone to take a chance on you all you want, but you cannot control whether or not other people have the courage to step up to the plate for you. You can control the chances you take on other people. Show up for your people today. I bet they need you more than you think." 

Tomorrow is death day. I can't believe my dad has gone for an entire year. My Waupaca friends and I are road tripping to Burlington tomorrow. Best of both worlds: they get to meet my fam & friends they've heard so much about, we get to go to Adrian's (the entire reason for this road trip), and I get to mesh my two worlds together. I'm hoping tomorrow will be full of laughter and good things. 

August 13, 2017

take two


I sat on the front stoop to drink my coffee this morning. I stood in front of Tammy's petunia's hanging over the porch railing and tried to make some artsy composition with my coffee cup. Scratch that. I sat on the stoop, drinking my coffee, waiting and looking for something to take my picture of this morning. I came back to the petunias after I finished my coffee, but this time I went the opposite direction. From my perch on the stoop, I lined up the shot, pressed the button, and went back inside. When I pulled up the photo to edit it, I saw the focus was off. It bugged me so much that I went back outside to retake it.

When I showed it to Justin, he said, "You always find beauty in plain sight."

I'm trying to focus on the little things today. Celebrate the little victories. Breathe through the hard things. Remember that the only person you need permission to be happy from is yourself. Most of the time, you are often standing in your own way.

Happy Sunday.

August 10, 2017

little lessons


  1. The stuff that scares you will always offer the most growth in the end.
  2. Coffee and solitude and morning sunlight helps with writer's block.
  3. Bouncing ideas off of your friends and hearing their feedback is beneficial, no matter what you're working on.
  4. 1200 words is a lot to write in an hour of manic, frenzied typing.
  5. Days off are for doing what you love.

August 09, 2017

this is life.


Wednesday mornings are for selfies because I refreshed the pink in my hair last night. They're for a good cup of coffee with a side of sunshine on the deck. They're for listening to the new Coffee with Chrachel episode. They're for working on a new knitting project while contemplating what to do when I run out of this skein of yarn. They're for moments of quiet, trying to breathe through the sadness that's looming on the horizon. Next week is a big week. Bring on the growing pains.

August 06, 2017

five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes


*cue music from Rent and me turning into a big sobbing MESS.

I am in the stage of my grief/depression where I am a) doing weird shit to my hair,  b) watching musicals, and c) processing things rather than writing about them. Tuesday night, I sought out companionship and brought some pink hair dye along for the ride. Sitting in my friend Melissa's bathroom, the beginning of a closer connection between us started to string together as she patted bright pink conditioner into the ends of my hair. We started talking about exes and a few of my crazies slipped out.

Last summer, the boy that ruined my life anonymously dropped an explicit message in my tumblr inbox, and from there life spiraled downward until I lost my dad. It was my rock bottom that all started with a stupid message on the internet. I have finally been able to process all the fucked upery that was happening in 2012 before I met Justin, which all started with this boy. All sorts of chaos that I brought upon myself. Yeah, some of my mistakes make for pretty good stories now... but some I would prefer never to relive.

The memory of a boy smiling while he's telling you how much he wants to brand you like cattle is a pretty hard one to forget. 

That same boy telling you how much one of his darkest fantasies is to go camping on the woods with you, rape you, and then leave you out there for a couple of days and maybe come back for you. That one is permanently etched into my brain too. 

Someone that loves you would never do those kinds of horrible things to you. They would never physically harm you for their own sick pleasure. They would never ask you for half of your paycheck every single week. They would never make you choose them over your passions in life. They would never dream of putting your personal safety at risk in such an on purpose, life threatening way. 

It's been five years since the most chaotic parts of the mess we created, and I'm still too scared to write about it fully. I'm afraid to expose the darker parts of my soul. I'm afraid to even put pen to paper because I'm terrified of the demons that lay in waiting. I'm afraid to admit my heartbreak and brokenness that resulted from that period in my life. I'm afraid to question my own behaviors, my own values and upbringing and wonder, "Where did I go wrong?"

Looking your own decisions, right and wrong, square in the face and saying, "Oh yeah, that hurt." kinda sucks no matter how much distance, in years or miles, you put between you and them.