October 15, 2026

Apparently, Sleep Is Optional, And My Body Didn’t Get the Memo!

Well, folks, today started with absolutely no sleep, an 8 a.m. doctor’s appointment, and a body that apparently thinks I’m training for some sort of extreme survival competition.

I had to be ready by 5:50 a.m. because my ride was picking me up at 6:50. Naturally, my brain decided that sleeping was a terrible idea because WHAT IF I overslept? So instead of getting some much-needed rest, I stayed awake all night worrying about waking up on time.

Apparently, my brain believes the best way to prepare for an early morning is to make sure I’m already exhausted before it even begins. Excellent work, brain. Five stars. No notes.

The good news is that my left-knee follow-up went well, and I had my first physical therapy session. The pain is manageable, and I’m trying to focus on the progress instead of the discomfort. Recovery is a process, though, and sometimes that process feels like my knee is holding a personal grudge against me.

I’m doing the work, following instructions, and trying to be patient. Unfortunately, patience is not one of my strongest personality traits. I can be patient when I need to be, but I would also appreciate it if my body could stop scheduling surprise meetings about what hurts today.

My right-knee surgery is scheduled for December 2. After having my first surgery postponed three times, I’m trying to stay hopeful without getting too excited too early. Apparently, my surgical calendar has been playing musical chairs, and I would very much like everyone to sit down and stay there this time.

After nine years of using a wheelchair, I’m hoping to be walking better with my walker by my birthday in March. Realistically, it could be April, May, or June before I get where I want to be. I know recovery takes time, and I’m not expecting to jump out of bed and run a marathon. Besides, I hate running. If I ever start running, somebody should probably check whether I’m being chased by something with teeth.

But the goal is progress, more independence, and being able to do more things for myself. Every little step counts, even when those steps are slow, uncomfortable, or accompanied by a vocabulary that would make a sailor proud.

Meanwhile, I’m dealing with exhaustion, household frustrations, and the general chaos of trying to recover while life continues happening around me. Apparently, surgery doesn’t come with a magical pause button for everything else. Wouldn’t that be nice? You get discharged, everyone leaves you alone, the house cleans itself, meals appear, and nobody expects you to do anything except heal.

Instead, recovering sometimes feels like having a full-time job where the employee is exhausted, the boss is unreasonable, and the benefits package consists of ice packs and medication reminders.

And then there’s my mood. Is it exhaustion? Stress? Hormones? Perimenopause? Or did all four get together, rent a conference room inside my body, and decide to ruin my afternoon?

At this point, I honestly don't know. I just know that when you haven't slept, you're uncomfortable, and everything feels like one more thing to deal with, even a minor inconvenience can feel like a personal attack.

Sometimes you need to laugh about it because otherwise you might sit down, stare at the wall, and start negotiating with your last remaining brain cell.

Still, beneath the sarcasm and occasional desire to throw a pillow across the room, I'm hopeful. I want to get stronger. I want more independence. I want to keep moving forward, even when the road is slower and bumpier than I planned.

I'm learning that recovery isn't always inspirational music and triumphant movie moments. Sometimes it's showing up for physical therapy, getting through an exhausting day, admitting you need rest, and celebrating the smallest victories.

And sometimes the victory is simply making it through the day without losing your mind. That absolutely counts, too.

Today's reminder: You don't have to be cheerful every minute to be grateful. You don't have to pretend everything is easy to prove you're strong. And you don't have to accomplish seventeen things in one day to deserve a little rest.

Sometimes self-care means meditation, positive affirmations, and a healthy meal. Other times, it means admitting you're cranky, putting your feet up, and warning everyone that your patience is currently running on 7% battery.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with my pillow. I hope it understands that I'm bringing absolutely no conversation, no responsibilities, and no expectations.

Unlike some things in my life, I expect my pillow to support me without asking me to do anything in return.

— Molly Roxx

October 15, 2026

Blog #2: Repeat After Me… Or Maybe Don’t. LOL.

Healing, Happiness, Hair Dye, and the Fine Art of Not Losing Your Damn Mind. It’s time for some affirmations.

Repeat after me…

I am healing.

Now say it like you mean it.

Or don’t. Maybe you’re tired, your back hurts, your stress is tap dancing on your last good nerve, and the only thing you’re repeating today is, “Who the hell moved my stuff?”

That counts, too.

I am healing. In every possible direction. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and possibly from the trauma of having to deal with other human beings before I’ve had coffee.

I’m healing from surgery. I’m healing from past trauma. I’m healing from current trauma. And I’m healing from the general bullshit of being alive in a world where people will look you dead in the face, create a problem, and then ask why you’re upset.

Because apparently, being inconvenienced by somebody else’s nonsense is a character-building exercise.

Well, congratulations. My character has been built. It has a mortgage, back pain, and absolutely no patience for foolishness.

I am healing.

Some days, that looks like growth, gratitude, and inner peace.

Other days, it looks like staring at a wall for twenty minutes because somebody asked me one more question, and my brain has officially closed for renovations.

And you know what?

Both days count.

I Am Happy. Sorta. Don't Push It.

Let’s discuss happiness.

I am happy. Sorta.

I have a new book coming out tomorrow, and that is genuinely exciting! October 16 is going to be a big day, and I am proud of myself. I’ve been writing more than twenty pages a day, cranking out books like my brain has a factory contract and a deadline from hell.

At this point, my imagination needs a union representative.

My characters are probably filing complaints.

“Excuse me, ma’am, you put us through emotional devastation on page 53, gave us a questionable love interest on page 83, and now you want us to survive another plot twist?” Not really, my books are about my life, but it was a cute analogy…

But honestly, writing has become one of the best ways I know to deal with everything going on inside my head.

Sometimes my thoughts are like a crowded Walmart on Black Friday. Everybody is shouting, nobody knows where they're going, and somebody's child is crying near the frozen food section.

Writing gives those thoughts somewhere to go.

I can put the fear, the frustration, the memories, the anger, and all those feelings I don't necessarily want to discuss over lunch onto a page. I can empty out some of the mental clutter and give my brain a little breathing room.

And I have noticed something important: when I write regularly, I often sleep better.

Not perfectly. Let's not get carried away. Anxiety still shows up uninvited, wearing muddy shoes and acting like it pays rent in my head.

But when I've written things down, there are fewer thoughts racing around demanding my attention at three in the morning.

Instead of lying there thinking about every mistake I've made since 1989, I can sometimes close my eyes and actually rest.

That is progress.

And progress doesn't have to arrive wearing a white robe, carrying a crystal, and speaking in inspirational quotes.

Sometimes progress is simply getting the thoughts out of your head long enough to get some damn sleep.

I Accept Myself Exactly As I Am Today. Mostly.

Now, this affirmation is lovely.

I accept myself exactly as I am today.

Sure. Absolutely. Let's do that.

I went to the doctor, and he said I'm doing pretty well. So if the medical professional is reasonably pleased with my progress, why shouldn't I give myself a little credit?

I'm working on my health. I'm writing books. I'm showing up for appointments. I'm handling things that aren't always easy.

I think I deserve a gold star.

Possibly a cookie.

Definitely a nap.

But let's be honest. Self-acceptance is easier when your surroundings aren't actively testing your commitment to inner peace.

For instance, I would love to cover my gray hair and bleach it. I have a vision. I have a plan. I have a woman in the mirror who would appreciate a little color correction and perhaps a touch of fabulousness.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the energy to do it. Surgery really took a lot out of me and I still do have MS.

I Got Things Done Today. And That Matters.

Let's review today's accomplishments.

I went to an appointment.

I finished writing a book.

I kept going.

Now, some people might look at that list and think, “Well, that's just a regular day.”

Those people may also be the sort who say, “Have you tried just relaxing?” to somebody whose nervous system is operating like a smoke detector with a dying battery.

We don't listen to those people.

Because when you're healing, a regular day can require an extraordinary amount of effort.

Getting dressed can be an accomplishment. Making a phone call can feel like climbing Mount Everest in flip-flops. Keeping your temper when somebody is being spectacularly unreasonable can qualify you for a humanitarian award.

And finishing a book?

That's not nothing.

That's hours of thinking, creating, revising, feeling, and putting pieces of yourself into something that didn't exist until you made it exist.

I don't need every day to be spectacular.

I need to recognize that even an ordinary day can contain something worth celebrating.

Today, I showed up for myself. I handled my responsibilities. I created something.

That's a good day in my book.

Literally.

I Am Enough Even on Imperfect Days.

Oh, I like this one.

Actually, I love this one.

We are all enough.

Not when we lose twenty pounds. Not when we finally get our lives together. Not when we have the perfect relationship, the perfect house, the perfect hair, or a bank account that doesn't make us laugh and cry at the same time.

We are enough now.

Messy, tired, healing, occasionally cranky, and still trying.

You do not have to earn your worth by being useful to everyone around you.

You do not have to keep everybody happy to deserve kindness.

And you absolutely do not have to turn yourself into somebody else's preferred version of a human being just to be considered lovable.

Maybe you're not enough for a particular person.

Maybe your personality doesn't fit their expectations. Maybe your boundaries annoy them. Maybe you stopped saying yes to everything, and suddenly you're the villain in their personal drama series.

Well, bless their little hearts.

You may not be their cup of tea.

That's fine.

You don't have to be everybody's cup of tea. Frankly, being universally appealing sounds exhausting. Imagine having to maintain a personality that never offends anybody.

I'd rather be a strong cup of coffee with a little attitude.

The point is, somebody else's inability to appreciate you does not determine your value.

If someone needs you to abandon your needs, silence your feelings, or shrink yourself to make them comfortable, the problem isn't automatically you.

Sometimes the right response is to walk away.

Sometimes it's to speak up.

And sometimes it's to say, “I wish you well, but I am no longer available for this particular circus.”

You can care about people without volunteering to be their emotional punching bag.

You can love somebody and still recognize that the relationship is unhealthy.

You can forgive someone without handing them another opportunity to hurt you.

And you can be a good person without being endlessly accessible.

You are enough, even when someone else doesn't know what to do with you.

Please remember that.

Especially on the days when your confidence is running low and your inner critic has apparently hired a full marketing department.

I Honor My Boundaries. And I Don't Step on My Own Toes.

Now we're getting somewhere.

I honor my boundaries.

I respect myself.

I try not to step on my own toes just to keep somebody else from getting their feelings hurt.

Because, honey, I have spent enough time trying to manage my own feelings. I cannot take on everybody else's emotional customer service department, too.

There is no hotline. There is no paid vacation. And the benefits package is terrible.

Learning to honor boundaries means recognizing that your time, energy, body, peace, and personal space matter.

It means understanding that “no” is a complete sentence, even if somebody responds as though you've just announced the cancellation of Christmas.

For example:

Someone asks you for a favor when you're exhausted.

Old you says, “Of course!”

Then old you spends the next six hours resentfully doing the favor while mentally composing a resignation letter from the friendship.

New you says, “I'm sorry, I can't take that on right now.”

And then you sit there waiting for the guilt to arrive.

It may arrive.

Let it knock.

You are not legally obligated to answer the door.

Or perhaps someone keeps making little comments that hurt your feelings. You've explained yourself politely, you've tried to be understanding, and you've given them enough chances to qualify for a frequent-flyer program.

Eventually, you get to say, “I've told you how I feel. I'm not going to keep having this conversation if nothing changes.”

That's not cruelty.

That's clarity.

Boundaries are not punishments. They're instructions for how you can participate in a relationship without sacrificing yourself in the process.

And sometimes boundaries have to be practical, too.

If your home environment is stressful, it's reasonable to want clear walkways, usable shared spaces, and some basic consideration. You can communicate those needs calmly and firmly without apologizing for existing in the place where you pay to live.

You deserve to move through your own home without feeling like a guest who overstayed your welcome.

You deserve room to breathe.

You deserve to feel safe enough to rest.

And you deserve to have a bad day without someone treating it like a personal inconvenience.

Of course, honoring boundaries also means being honest with yourself.

Are you saying yes because you genuinely want to?

Or are you saying yes because you're afraid somebody will be upset if you don't?

Are you staying quiet because you've chosen peace?

Or are you staying quiet because you're afraid of what might happen if you speak?

Those are two very different things.

Real peace doesn't require you to disappear.

Real kindness doesn't require you to betray yourself.

And real self-respect means understanding that your needs matter, too.

Healing Is Not a Straight Line. It's More Like a Drunk Shopping Cart.

Let's get one thing straight.

Healing is not a beautiful, perfectly organized journey where you wake up every morning feeling grateful, drink lemon water, meditate for twenty minutes, and suddenly understand the meaning of the universe.

Sometimes you wake up feeling hopeful.

Sometimes you wake up irritated because the blanket is twisted around your legs and your brain has decided that today is the day to review every embarrassing thing you've ever said.

Sometimes you make progress.

Sometimes you have a setback.

Sometimes you feel strong enough to conquer the world, and sometimes you need to sit quietly and avoid people who begin sentences with, “You know what your problem is?”

No. But I'm about to find out, aren't I?

Healing can mean feeling better physically while still struggling emotionally. It can mean learning to trust yourself again while still feeling anxious. It can mean being proud of your accomplishments while acknowledging that certain parts of your life are not where you want them to be.

You don't have to be completely healed to experience happiness.

You don't have to be happy every minute to be grateful.

And you don't have to pretend you're fine just because other people are uncomfortable with the truth.

You can be healing and frustrated.

You can be hopeful and scared.

You can laugh at your circumstances without pretending they don't hurt.

Sometimes humor gives us a little breathing room when life feels too heavy. Sometimes sarcasm is the tiny umbrella we hold over our heads while the universe throws another bucket of nonsense at us.

And sometimes a good laugh reminds us that we are still here.

Still thinking. Still creating. Still becoming.

Still capable of finding something funny in a day that wasn't particularly kind.

That matters.

So, Where Does That Leave Me Today?

It leaves me here.

I am healing.

I am happy, at least in the ways that count, even if my happiness occasionally needs a little encouragement and a snack.

I am learning to accept myself as I am while still making room for the changes I want.

I am proud of my work.

I am excited about my book coming out tomorrow.

I am learning that my worth does not depend on how much I accomplish, how well I handle adversity, or how convenient I am for other people.

I am learning to respect my limits without treating them like personal failures.

And I am learning that I can be a work in progress without referring to myself as a disaster.

Although, to be fair, there are days when “work in progress” sounds a little too generous.

Some days, I'm more of a limited-edition construction zone with questionable signage.

But I'm still worth the effort.

So are you.

Maybe today you didn't finish a book. Maybe you didn't go to an appointment. Maybe you didn't accomplish anything that would look impressive on a résumé.

Maybe you simply got through something difficult without giving up on yourself.

That counts.

Please don't measure your healing against somebody else's highlight reel. You don't know what they're carrying behind that perfect smile, those inspirational captions, or that suspiciously peaceful morning routine.

Everybody has something they're working through.

Everybody has days when they're doing better than they feel and days when they're doing worse than they admit.

Give yourself some grace.

Give other people some grace, too, when it's appropriate.

But don't confuse grace with permission for people to keep hurting you.

You can be compassionate without being a doormat.

You can be strong without pretending nothing affects you.

You can be independent and still need help.

And you can be a beautiful, complicated, occasionally sarcastic human being who is figuring things out one day at a time.

So, repeat after me, if you feel like it.

I am healing.

I am allowed to have complicated feelings.

I am proud of what I accomplish, even when it seems small.

I am enough, even when my life is a little chaotic.

I can love people without abandoning myself.

I can want better without hating where I am.

And I can laugh at the ridiculous parts of life without minimizing the painful ones.

There.

Now go drink some water, eat something decent, and stop arguing with yourself in your head for at least five minutes.

Your brain has been working overtime. It deserves a break, and frankly, it is becoming a very difficult coworker.

One final reminder: You do not have to have everything figured out to be moving in the right direction.

You just have to keep showing up for yourself.

And if all you manage today is to survive, take a breath, and decide to try again tomorrow?

Congratulations.

You're still in the game.

And tomorrow, I have a new book coming out.

So, apparently, I'm healing, writing, and launching literary products while my kitchen situation remains a national emergency.

Honestly, if that's not resilience, I don't know what is.

Until next time, be kind to yourself, protect your peace, laugh when you can, and remember: you are a whole damn person, not a community project.

Love yourself accordingly.

October 16, 2026

I'm Healing, Grieving, Forgiving, and Trying to Be Loved. Bitch, I Need a Vacation!

She is trying to heal, while trying to grieve, while trying to forgive, while trying to let go, while trying to love, while trying to be loved.

That's a lot to carry in one woman's soul.

And it's all true.

I'm trying to do all of these things at once, and I'm beginning to think I need a personal assistant for my emotional baggage. Somebody to organize the trauma, file the memories, schedule the grieving, and remind me when it's time to stop overthinking shit that happened fifteen years ago.

Because apparently, my brain believes that 3:33 in the morning is the perfect time to revisit every painful experience I've ever had.

Me: Finally, I'm comfortable. Maybe I'll get some sleep.

My brain: Hey, remember that awful thing somebody did to you?

Me: No. And I'd appreciate it if you would shut the hell up.

My brain: Well, you're going to remember it anyway.

Me: Fantastic. Love this for me.

At this point, I don't need another motivational quote telling me that everything happens for a reason. I need a vacation, a little peace, and possibly a customer service number for the universe.

I'd like to file a complaint.

I've had enough character development to qualify for an advanced degree. Can we please move on to the chapter where something good happens without requiring me to learn another painful life lesson?

I'm just saying.

First, Let Me Deal With This Body That's Apparently Got Its Own Agenda

I'm trying to heal from surgery, and that's something I believe I will heal from with time. My body needs rest, patience, and proper care.

Unfortunately, my body and I do not always agree on the schedule.

I'd like to get things done. My body would apparently prefer to hold a committee meeting about whether getting out of bed is an appropriate activity today.

Then there's MS, with Tuberous Sclerosis close behind, waiting in line like two people who showed up at the DMV five minutes before closing.

Can we not?

I have enough going on without my body treating every week like a surprise episode of What the Hell Is Happening Now?

And here's the thing about health issues: people don't always understand that you can grieve the life you had before your body started changing the rules.

I grieve the things I used to do more easily. I grieve the parts of myself that illness has affected. I grieve the freedom of not having to think so much about my physical limitations.

Sometimes you just want to do something ordinary without having to calculate how much energy it will take, how you'll feel afterward, or whether your body will decide to file a formal objection.

I miss the simplicity of doing things without having to negotiate with myself first.

And yes, I get frustrated.

I'm human. I'm not a porcelain angel sitting on a shelf with a permanent expression of gratitude.

I can appreciate being alive and still be angry about what I'm dealing with. I can have hope and still have days when I'm thoroughly fed up.

Those feelings aren't contradictory. They're part of being human.

I'm trying to be patient with myself, although patience has never been my strongest talent. If patience were an Olympic sport, I'd be sitting in the stands yelling at the judges to hurry the hell up.

But I'm learning.

I'm learning that my body deserves care, even when I'm frustrated with it. I'm learning that rest isn't laziness and that I don't have to prove my worth by pushing myself until I'm exhausted.

And I'm learning that having a difficult day doesn't mean I've lost whatever progress I've made.

Sometimes the biggest accomplishment of the day is taking care of yourself and not feeling guilty about it.

Who knew that being an adult would involve so much paperwork, emotional maintenance, and bodily betrayal?

Where's the instruction manual? And why didn't anybody include the warranty?

Then There's Losing My Son, Which Is a Pain I Would Never Wish on Another Mother

Now, let's talk about the grief.

I will never heal from the loss of my son in the way I hope to heal from surgery.

I will carry that loss for the rest of my life.

I found him after he passed in his sleep. I remember seeing him. I remember performing chest compressions on his stiff body, knowing I was too late.

I close my eyes, and sometimes I see it all over again.

My PTSD doesn't care if I'm having a good day. It doesn't check my calendar to see whether I'm emotionally available for a traumatic memory.

It just shows up.

And suddenly, I'm back in that moment, reliving something no mother should ever have to experience.

I am haunted by what happened. My heart will never forget the loss of my child, and I will never pretend that this is something I can simply put behind me.

There are certain losses that change the shape of your entire life.

You may learn how to live around the pain. You may find moments of happiness again. You may laugh, work, write, make plans, and enjoy things you never thought you would enjoy again.

But the love doesn't disappear just because you learn to keep living.

I can laugh at a ridiculous situation and still miss my son with every part of my heart. I can have a good day and still wish he were here to share it.

I don't have to choose between grieving him and living my life.

And I don't need anybody telling me that I should be over it by now.

Over it?

He's my son.

There is no expiration date on a mother's love, and there is no universal schedule for grieving a child.

Sometimes the memories are beautiful. Sometimes they are heartbreaking. Sometimes they arrive together, and I have to sit with feelings that are too complicated to explain to someone who hasn't lived through what I have.

I wish things had been different. I wish I could change what happened. I wish I could have saved him.

Those wishes are part of my grief, and I am learning to live with them.

I don't have a funny ending for this section because some things deserve to be taken seriously.

But I will say this: if you know a grieving parent, please don't assume that their laughter means their pain is gone.

Sometimes laughter is simply a moment of breathing room in a life that has been profoundly changed.

And sometimes the kindest thing you can do is sit beside someone, let them talk about the person they lost, and not try to fix something that cannot be fixed.

You don't have to have the right words.

Sometimes being there is enough.

My Father, His Final Days, and the Complicated Mess Left Behind

I am also grieving the pain surrounding my father.

During his dying days, I was the one who would take care of him. I spoon-fed him, trying to give him the care he needed, and he would literally spit food in my face.

Yes, actually spit food in my face.

I was trying to care for a dying man, and apparently the dinner service came with an unwanted facial treatment.

If only that were the worst part of the story.

The truth is that it hurt. It was humiliating, upsetting, and another painful experience in a relationship that already carried complicated feelings.

I showed up to take care of him. I did what needed to be done. And I was still dealing with behavior that hurt me.

That is a difficult thing to process, especially when the person is dying and you know there may never be another opportunity to address what happened.

People sometimes act as though death magically transforms every relationship into a beautiful story filled with nothing but wonderful memories.

It doesn't.

Sometimes you lose someone and grieve them while also grieving the relationship you wish you had experienced with them.

Sometimes you miss someone and still feel angry about the way they treated you.

Sometimes you remember the good and the bad, and neither one cancels out the other.

I can acknowledge that my father needed care while also acknowledging that his behavior hurt me.

I can grieve his passing without pretending everything between us was wonderful.

And I can wish our relationship had been different without taking responsibility for things I couldn't control.

That's the complicated part of being human. We want our feelings to make sense, preferably in a neat little package with a bow on top.

But sometimes our feelings look more like the junk drawer in the kitchen.

You know the one. Batteries, rubber bands, old receipts, three keys nobody recognizes, and something sticky that nobody wants to investigate.

That's what complicated grief can feel like.

You're sorting through memories, trying to understand what you feel, and discovering that every time you think you've figured it out, another feeling crawls out from underneath something.

And no, you don't have to feel guilty because your grief isn't simple.

You can mourn a person and mourn what you never received from them.

Both losses deserve acknowledgment.

Toxic People: Why Do They Keep Finding My Address?

Now, while I'm busy trying to recover, grieve, forgive, and make peace with the past, toxic people keep trying to make appearances in my life.

I would really like to know how they do it.

Is there a secret newsletter?

Does somebody send out a group text?

"Attention, everyone! Molly is attempting to establish emotional stability. Please report immediately with unnecessary drama, questionable behavior, and absolutely no accountability."

Because sometimes it feels as though certain people have a sixth sense for detecting peace.

The minute you begin enjoying a quiet day, here they come with a fresh delivery of nonsense.

And I am not talking about ordinary disagreements. People are human. We all make mistakes. Sometimes we misunderstand each other, say the wrong thing, or behave badly and need to apologize.

I'm talking about patterns.

The people who repeatedly hurt you, ignore your boundaries, make excuses, and somehow manage to turn every conversation about their behavior into a discussion about how you've offended them.

It's quite the talent.

You could tell somebody they stepped on your toes, and somehow twenty minutes later you're apologizing because they had a difficult childhood and you didn't phrase your complaint gently enough.

How did we get here?

I started out with a bruised toe, and now I'm responsible for your emotional well-being?

Absolutely not.

I'm learning that I can care about people without allowing them to keep hurting me.

I can forgive someone without inviting them back into my life.

I can wish someone well without personally escorting them into my future.

And I can say no without writing a three-page explanation, providing supporting documentation, and having my decision notarized.

Sometimes NO is a complete sentence.

I know that's difficult for people who have grown accustomed to you saying yes.

They may be confused. They may be upset. They may accuse you of changing.

Well, perhaps I am changing.

Perhaps I'm finally learning that my kindness should not require me to abandon myself.

Perhaps I'm beginning to understand that being a caring person doesn't mean becoming everybody's emotional punching bag.

And perhaps I'm tired of relationships that leave me needing a recovery period afterward.

I have enough medical appointments. I do not need to schedule additional appointments to recover from conversations with people who enjoy creating chaos.

My calendar is full.

Thank you for your interest.

Forgiveness: The Class I Keep Retaking Because I Didn't Study Enough

I truly believe forgiveness can be good for the soul.

I also believe it's something we may have to learn over and over again.

Because I can forgive someone, feel like I've finally made peace with what happened, and then remember something they did and get angry all over again.

There I am, having a perfectly decent afternoon, when my brain decides it's time to revisit an incident from the archives.

Me: Oh, look. A peaceful moment.

My brain: Remember that person who hurt you?

Me: No, and I would like to keep it that way.

My brain: Too late. Here's a highlight reel.

Me: Can I get a refund on this brain?

My brain: No refunds. All sales final.

Seriously, sometimes I think my mind needs a hobby.

Take up knitting. Learn French. Solve a crossword puzzle. Anything besides dragging me into imaginary arguments with people who probably aren't thinking about me at all.

And let's be honest: in these imaginary arguments, I am always much more articulate than I was in real life.

I have excellent timing. My responses are brilliant. My facial expressions are perfectly controlled.

I win every single time.

Then I return to reality, where I once forgot why I walked into the kitchen.

But underneath the humor is something important.

Forgiveness doesn't mean the hurt disappears.

It doesn't mean what happened was acceptable.

It doesn't mean you have to trust someone again or allow them another opportunity to hurt you.

And it doesn't mean you are never allowed to feel angry about what happened.

I can forgive someone and still recognize that their behavior was damaging. I can work toward letting go of resentment without pretending I was never wounded.

And sometimes I have to forgive myself, too.

For trusting people who disappointed me. For staying in situations longer than I should have. For believing that if I loved somebody enough, I could somehow make them treat me better.

Love is wonderful, but it is not a magical repair kit for another person's character.

I cannot love someone into becoming honest, considerate, or emotionally mature.

If I could, I would have opened a repair shop years ago.

"Welcome to Molly's Relationship Garage. We fix communication problems, replace broken promises, and offer a limited warranty on apologies. Please note that repeat offenders will be charged extra."

Unfortunately, people have to take responsibility for themselves.

All I can do is take responsibility for my own choices, learn from my experiences, and decide what I am willing to accept in my life.

Forgiveness is part of that process.

But so is self-respect.

And I am learning that the two can exist together quite comfortably.

Letting Go Without Needing to Throw a Chair

Letting go is another thing that sounds simple until you actually have to do it.

People say, "You need to let go of the past."

Wonderful advice.

I'll just open the back door, tell my memories to get out, and hope they remember to take their shoes with them.

If only.

You cannot always control what memories come back or when they show up. You cannot erase the things that hurt you simply because you've decided you're ready to move forward.

But you can work toward changing the relationship you have with those memories.

You can stop replaying conversations in search of the perfect response.

You can stop waiting for an apology from someone who has shown no interest in giving one.

You can stop trying to make someone understand your pain when they've repeatedly demonstrated that they don't want to understand.

And you can stop letting old experiences determine what you believe about yourself today.

That last one is especially important.

Someone treating you badly does not mean you deserved it.

Someone failing to love you properly does not mean you were unlovable.

Someone betraying your trust does not mean you were foolish for wanting to believe in them.

Sometimes you simply trusted the wrong person.

Sometimes you stayed because you hoped things would improve.

Sometimes you didn't recognize the pattern until you were already caught in it.

That doesn't make you stupid. It makes you human.

I'm trying to let go of the things I cannot change while still acknowledging that they affected me.

I'm trying to understand that moving forward doesn't require me to pretend the past never happened.

And I'm trying to remember that I deserve a present that isn't entirely occupied by yesterday's pain.

Because life is happening right now, too.

There are still people to meet, things to laugh about, stories to write, and moments that might surprise me in the best possible way.

I don't want to miss all of that because I'm too busy mentally arguing with someone who isn't even in the room.

Although I reserve the right to occasionally win that imaginary argument before moving on with my day.

I'm only human.

Now, Can Somebody Please Love Me Without Requiring a Personality Transplant?

Here's where it gets personal.

After everything I've been through, I still want to be loved.

Not because I need someone to rescue me. Not because I expect another person to fix my life. And certainly not because I want to convince somebody to feel something they don't feel.

I do not want to coerce anyone into loving me.

I simply want people to see me for me and love me.

Who I am right now.

Not the woman I used to be.

Not the woman someone else thinks I should be.

Not some perfectly polished version of myself who has resolved every emotional issue, never gets upset, and responds to life's disasters by lighting a candle and whispering, "Everything is unfolding as it should."

Somebody please pass that woman a reality check.

I am a real person.

I have health struggles. I have grief. I have memories that still hurt. I have good days and bad days, strengths and weaknesses, and a sense of humor that occasionally arrives wearing muddy boots.

I can be compassionate and sarcastic in the same conversation.

I can be strong and still need support.

I can love people deeply and still need boundaries.

I can be grateful for what I have and still be sad about what I've lost.

None of those things makes me less worthy of love.

I don't need someone to admire my ability to survive difficult things while ignoring the fact that sometimes I would rather not have to be so damn strong.

I don't need applause for carrying everything on my own.

Sometimes I just want somebody to ask how I am and actually care about the answer.

I want people who can see beyond the jokes and understand that humor is part of how I deal with life, not proof that nothing hurts.

I want relationships where I can be honest without worrying that every difficult feeling will make me less desirable as a friend or partner.

And I want to be able to give that same kind of understanding in return.

I don't expect perfection. I don't offer perfection.

I just want honesty, kindness, mutual effort, and affection that doesn't feel like I'm constantly trying to pass an examination.

I have taken enough tests in life.

I do not need to sit for the final exam in whether I am lovable.

And if someone cannot appreciate me for who I am, I can be disappointed without deciding that I need to change everything about myself.

Not everybody is going to understand me.

Not everybody is going to like my personality.

And some people will find my sarcasm a little too spicy for their taste.

That's fine. Everybody has different tastes. Some people like hot sauce, and some people think black pepper is adventurous. I love both!

We cannot all be compatible.

But I refuse to believe that I have to become less myself just to make other people comfortable.

I want to be loved for the woman I am today, with the understanding that I am still growing, learning, and figuring things out.

I don't need someone to save me from my past.

I would just like someone who wants to share a future with me.

Preferably someone who can make me laugh, tell the truth, and understand that when I say I'm fine, there is occasionally a follow-up question worth asking.

You know. Basic human skills.

Apparently, those are rare enough to qualify as premium features.

The Truth Is, We Are All a Little Bit of a Mess

Maybe that's what I am learning through all of this.

We are all carrying things other people cannot see.

Some people are grieving a loved one. Some are dealing with illness. Some are trying to recover from abusive relationships. Some are struggling with memories, loneliness, disappointment, or the simple exhaustion of trying to keep their lives together.

And some people are doing all of those things at once while smiling politely at the cashier because they don't want to explain that they're having an emotional breakdown over the price of groceries.

We never really know what someone else is carrying.

That's why kindness matters.

It's also why we need to give ourselves a little kindness, too.

I don't have to turn every painful experience into a motivational speech.

Sometimes I can simply admit that something hurt.

I don't have to find a lesson in every loss.

Sometimes I just miss someone.

I don't have to forgive everyone on a schedule.

Sometimes I need more time.

And I don't have to be happy every minute to prove that I'm making progress.

Sometimes a good day means laughing until my stomach hurts.

Sometimes it means getting something done that I thought I couldn't manage.

And sometimes it means telling the world to leave me alone for a while so I can sit quietly and enjoy not having to solve anybody else's problems.

That last one deserves a holiday.

An official day of rest for women who have spent too much time taking care of everybody else.

No phone calls. No drama. No emotional emergencies that could have been handled by somebody with a little common sense.

Just peace, snacks, comfortable clothes, and nobody asking me to explain myself.

I think we'd all benefit.

But seriously, I am learning that I don't need to have everything figured out to appreciate the life I still have.

I can work on forgiveness without demanding perfection from myself.

I can protect my peace without becoming bitter.

I can grieve without giving up on happiness.

And I can keep my heart open without handing everyone a key.

That's progress enough for me.

My Heart Has Been Through Enough. It Deserves Some Good Days, Too.

I have lived through things I never wanted to experience. I've lost my son, struggled with my health, dealt with painful memories, and tried to make sense of relationships that left me hurt.

Some of those things will always be part of my story.

But I don't want my entire story to be about pain.

I want there to be laughter in it, too.

I want friendships that feel easy, conversations that make me smile, people who show up because they genuinely care, and moments when I can enjoy being alive without worrying about what might go wrong next.

I want to keep writing, keep learning, and keep finding ways to make sense of this complicated business called life.

And yes, I want to be loved.

Not because I've suffered enough to earn it.

Not because I've become so forgiving that I never get angry.

Not because I have finally mastered the art of pretending everything is fine.

I want love because I'm a person, and people need connection, affection, understanding, and the freedom to be themselves.

I am not asking anyone to carry all my pain for me.

I'm simply asking to be seen as more than the things that have hurt me.

I'm a mother who will always love her son. I'm a woman navigating serious health challenges. I'm someone who has experienced hurt and is trying to make peace with the past. I'm also a woman who can laugh, write, love, appreciate the ridiculousness of everyday life, and still get excited about something good.

All of those things belong to me.

And I am allowed to be all of them.

So, here's my plan: I'm going to keep working on what I can change, give myself grace for what takes time, and stop expecting myself to solve every emotional problem before I am allowed to enjoy a Tuesday.

I'm going to keep learning who deserves a place in my life, and I'm going to stop confusing being needed with being loved.

I'm going to let myself laugh without feeling guilty, grieve without a deadline, and hope without demanding that life promise me a perfect ending.

And if I have a bad day, I'll try to remember that it is one day, not a verdict on my entire existence.

That seems reasonable.

Now, if life would like to cooperate for a change, I would appreciate a few fewer plot twists.

I've had enough suspense to last several seasons.

I don't need a perfect life. I want a life with room for grief and joy, boundaries and forgiveness, laughter and love. And I want to be able to live it as myself, without constantly apologizing for being a human being who is still figuring things out.

That's my goal.

That, and finding a way to get my brain to stop bringing up ancient history when I'm trying to sleep.

One battle at a time, people.

With love, laughter, a little sarcasm, and absolutely no intention of pretending life is always easy,

If this made you laugh, think, or feel a little less alone, share it with someone who could use a reminder that life doesn't have to be perfect for us to find a little joy in it.

Thank you!

And remember: you can be a work in progress and still be a damn good person worth knowing and loving.

October 16, 2026

Blog #2 For The Day

A Few Rules to Live By, Because Apparently Common Sense Needs a Babysitter…

We all need some rules to live by. Little reminders to help us get through our everyday lives without screwing things up too royally. You know, a little wisdom to keep us from making the same mistakes, trusting the wrong people, or accidentally turning an ordinary Tuesday into a damn episode of Jackass.

Some rules are serious. Some are ridiculous. Some are things you learn the hard way and then spend the rest of your life telling people, “Don't ask me how I know that.”

So let's get into it.

1. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

Trust me on this one. Speaking from a friend's perspective, of course.

Things can take a squishy turn.

And suddenly you're not sleeping peacefully. You're negotiating with God, your bowels, and the laws of physics.

Some life lessons are best learned through observation. This is one of them. Observe somebody else's mistakes. Let them suffer for the benefit of humanity.

You're welcome.

2. Going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.

PREACH! And yes, I realize the irony of that word.

This one is so damn true.

Christians are supposed to be honest, loving, accepting, and forgiving. Yet nowadays, I see people using religion as an excuse to be hateful, judgmental, cruel, and downright nasty to people who don't live, love, or believe exactly as they do.

Stop it!

I was raised Catholic/Christian, and I try to be forgiving, kind, and understanding. Am I perfect? Hell, no. I have opinions, a mouth, and approximately zero patience for bullshit before my coffee. But I do try to treat people like human beings, regardless of whether they agree with me.

And that's where some folks seem to have misplaced the damn instruction manual.

Jesus spent time with people society looked down on. He ate with sinners, cared for the poor, and taught people to love their neighbors. He wasn't walking around demanding that everybody prove they deserved a little compassion before he'd offer it.

He wasn't checking people's sexuality at the door.

He wasn't asking for their political affiliation.

And I seriously doubt he was handing out scorecards to determine who was worthy of a meal.

The way I see it, if your religion makes you feel superior to other human beings, perhaps it's time to sit down, open that Bible, and have a little heart-to-heart with yourself.

And since I know somebody will have something to say about my comments on the Bible, let me get ahead of the parade.

The debate over biblical passages concerning homosexuality is complicated, involving translation, historical context, and interpretation. The year 1946 is often discussed because of a major English Bible translation that used the word homosexuals in one passage. That doesn't mean every passage people debate was simply invented in 1946, and I won't pretend the history is that simple.

But the point I'm making is simple enough for anybody to understand: you don't get to use your faith as a permission slip to mistreat people.

And Jesus? He was a Middle Eastern Jewish man, not a blue-eyed, blond-haired model who wandered out of a cologne commercial.

Deal with it.

You can love your religion without using it as a weapon. You can have beliefs without making somebody else's life miserable. And you can disagree with people without acting like an asshole.

Imagine that. We could have an entire civilization built on the revolutionary concept of being decent to one another.

3. If you must choose between two evils, pick the one you've never tried before.

I mean, variety is the spice of life.

If we're already choosing between two evils, apparently the responsible option has left the building and taken the sensible shoes with it.

At least try something new.

Maybe you'll discover something wonderful. Maybe you'll regret it immediately. Maybe you'll end up sitting on your couch at midnight wondering why you thought that was a good idea.

That's called experience, darling.

And if it goes badly, at least you'll have a new story to tell.

4. A person who is nice to you but rude to the waiter is not a nice person.

I have seen this proven way too many times.

Some people are lovely when they're trying to impress somebody. They smile, turn on the charm, and act like the world's most delightful human being.

Then the waiter brings the wrong drink, the cashier takes too long, or somebody they consider beneath them makes a tiny mistake.

Suddenly, Dr. Jekyll has left the building, and Mr. Hyde is demanding to speak to the manager.

Pay attention.

If someone is rude to people because they believe those people don't matter, or because they think they have nothing to gain from treating them well, don't fool yourself into thinking you're somehow exempt.

One day, you might be the person they decide doesn't matter anymore.

So, smile politely, finish your dinner, and RUN!

You don't need to announce your departure with a marching band. Just remember what you saw.

Character isn't how someone treats the people they want to impress. It's how they treat the people they think they can get away with disrespecting.

5. Eat well, stay fit, die anyway.

Well, for the most part, I eat well.

I mean, I'm fat, but I've still lost a lot of weight because I do eat better. Progress is progress, and I'm not about to let a bathroom scale become the CEO of my self-esteem.

As for staying fit, I switched from an electric wheelchair to a manual wheelchair, and I officially have physical therapy twice a week.

Twice a week!

And I do it every day at home, too, because apparently I have decided to become one of those people who actually follows through with things.

Who the hell am I?

I'm staying active, working on myself, and doing what I can with the body I've got. That matters. My worth isn't measured in pounds, and neither is anybody else's.

And the dying anyway part?

Well, ten out of ten people die eventually, so yeah, that part sucks.

You can eat kale, drink water, exercise, meditate, and rub essential oils on your forehead until you smell like a hippie gift shop. We're all still human.

So, take care of yourself, absolutely. But don't spend your entire life being miserable because you're trying to earn permission to enjoy it.

Eat your vegetables. Move your body in whatever way works for you. Go to your appointments. Take care of your health.

And if you want the damn piece of chocolate cake, have the piece of chocolate cake.

We're aiming for a life, not a lifetime achievement award in suffering.

6. Experience is a wonderful thing. It enables you to recognize a mistake when you make it again.

And I bow down to the Truth Gods. Amen!

Isn't this the absolute truth?

You meet the same kind of person with a different haircut. You repeat the same argument with a different name attached. You find yourself in a situation that feels suspiciously familiar, and suddenly your brain whispers, “Haven't we been here before?”

Yes, sweetheart. We've been here before.

Several times.

We have the souvenirs, the emotional damage, and possibly a T-shirt.

Experience is supposed to teach us something, but sometimes we're a little slow on the uptake. We recognize the red flags and decide they look festive. We hear the warning bells and assume somebody's microwave is broken.

Then we act surprised when the whole damn thing falls apart.

The goal isn't to never make mistakes. That's impossible. The goal is to eventually stop buying season tickets to the same circus.

At some point, you have to look at the evidence and say, “Maybe the problem isn't that I keep getting unlucky. Maybe I need to stop walking into the same damn wall.”

Growth isn't always glamorous.

Sometimes it's simply recognizing the bullshit before you step in it.

7. Thou shalt not weigh more than thy refrigerator.

Now, this is a rule that raises some important questions.

First, are we talking about the refrigerator itself or the refrigerator when it's fully stocked?

Because if we're using the second option, I would like to submit a formal amendment.

That's why you always keep the refrigerator a little more full than you keep yourself.

And if that doesn't work, let your cat sit on top of the fridge.

Problem solved.

You're welcome, science.

But seriously, bodies come in different shapes and sizes, and I refuse to spend my life treating a number on a scale like it's a court ruling.

I've got enough things to worry about without wondering whether my refrigerator is preparing to file a formal complaint.

Besides, if my fridge is full of food and I'm still hungry, that sounds like a grocery-planning issue, not a moral failure.

Pass the snacks.

8. It ain't the jeans that make your butt look fat.

YES, THE FUCK IT IS!

Genes, too.

Let's stop pretending every pair of pants was designed by somebody who understands the human body.

Some jeans make you look fabulous. Others make you look like you're smuggling two Thanksgiving turkeys in your back pockets.

And some have a mysterious ability to fit perfectly in the dressing room, then shrink approximately four sizes between the store and your car.

What the hell happened? Did they encounter a heat source? Did the fabric get a threatening letter from the fashion police?

I don't know.

What I do know is that I refuse to blame my entire body because a pair of jeans was designed by someone who apparently believes all women have the exact same ass.

Sometimes it's the jeans.

Sometimes it's the cut.

Sometimes the zipper is fighting for its life.

And sometimes you need to accept that the pants are assholes and move on.

Wear what makes you comfortable. Wear what makes you feel good. Wear the outfit that makes you walk past a mirror and say, “Damn, girl!”

Life is too short to be in a toxic relationship with denim.

9. People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.

Very true.

I will get notes about my comments on the Bible. I always do.

Somebody will disagree with me, tell me I'm wrong, and then act personally victimized when I don't immediately fall to my knees and accept their interpretation as the official Word of the Universe.

Apparently, sharing your opinion is a sacred right until somebody else does it.

Then it's an emergency.

Maybe I'm one of the few people who has actually read the Bible. Maybe not. I'm certainly not claiming to know every interpretation or translation. But I do think people should understand what they're quoting before using it to condemn somebody else.

You can have faith. You can question faith. You can believe something different from me. That's your business.

But if you want to have a conversation with me, bring your facts, your reasoning, and a little willingness to listen.

Don't bring a lecture disguised as a discussion and then get offended when I participate.

If you want a conversation, let's talk.

If you want an audience, buy a ticket.

10. You should not confuse your career with your life.

Very true.

I am a human being with a soul, a spirit, feelings, hopes, dreams, and an occasional desire to tell the entire world to go sit in a corner until it learns some manners.

What I do is write.

Those are two separate things that intertwine because, even though I am not what I do, I do what I do from me—from who I am.

My writing comes from my experiences, my thoughts, my observations, my mistakes, and the things life has thrown at me when I wasn't even looking.

But I am more than my writing.

And you are more than your job title, your paycheck, your business, or the number of emails sitting in your inbox waiting to ruin your afternoon.

Somewhere along the way, people started treating exhaustion like a trophy.

“I'm so busy.”

“I haven't slept.”

“I work eighty hours a week.”

Congratulations? Would you like a medal, a nap, or somebody to bring you a sandwich?

Working hard can be important. Having ambition is wonderful. Building something you're proud of is worth doing.

But your job is supposed to be part of your life, not the entire damn thing.

Your family matters. Your friendships matter. Your health matters. Your peace matters.

And so does sitting around in your pajamas doing absolutely nothing productive.

Sometimes the most successful thing you can do is close the laptop, ignore the phone, and remember that you're a person—not a machine with a LinkedIn profile.

11. The most destructive force in the universe is gossip.

I just don't give a shit about gossip.

If I don't know for a fact that something is true, I don't repeat it as fact unless it's an obvious joke.

I have better things to do than spend my days collecting rumors like they're trading cards.

If somebody tells me that somebody else did something terrible, my first question is usually, “How do you know?”

And suddenly the story develops a few holes.

“Well, somebody told me.”

Oh, well, then! Case closed! We have a witness who heard it from a person who may have heard it from a woman whose cousin once dated a guy who knew somebody at the gas station.

Call the FBI.

Look, people can be hurt by gossip. Reputations get damaged, friendships fall apart, and perfectly good days get ruined because somebody couldn't resist running their mouth.

And the people spreading it often get to walk away feeling entertained while somebody else has to deal with the consequences.

As for gossip about me?

Screw it.

Get your enjoyment. Bash me if you want. Keep my pretty name in your ugly mouth.

Let me control your thoughts. Give me the power to take up space in your brain.

Seriously, think about that for a minute.

If you're spending your precious time talking about me while I'm over here reading a book, playing with my hair, or minding my own damn business, which one of us is actually having a better day?

I'm not saying nobody should ever care what others think. We're human. Words can hurt, and sometimes criticism deserves attention.

But there is a difference between taking responsibility for something you've done and allowing every random person with an opinion to rent space in your head.

You don't have to attend every argument you're invited to.

You don't have to defend yourself against every rumor.

And you certainly don't have to audition for the approval of people who have already decided they don't like you.

Let them talk.

You have a life to live, and it doesn't need a running commentary from the peanut gallery.

12. You will never find anybody who can give you a clear and compelling reason why we observe daylight saving time.

Science.

There's your answer.

What science?

Is it good science?

I don't know.

And that's the problem, isn't it?

Every year, we move the clocks around, disrupt our routines, confuse our pets, and spend several days wondering why we're tired, hungry, and vaguely offended by the existence of mornings.

Your body says it's bedtime. The clock says it's dinner. Your dog is staring at you like you've personally betrayed the entire household.

And somewhere, a microwave still displays the wrong time because nobody ever remembered how to change it.

Why are we doing this again?

I know there are historical explanations involving daylight use, energy, economics, and public policy. I'm not claiming there aren't reasons people have given.

I'm just saying that if the system requires an entire population to collectively lose its damn minds twice a year, perhaps we could at least have a meeting about it.

A meeting at a reasonable hour, obviously.

Preferably after coffee.

And preferably without changing the clocks during it.

So, what's the real rule to live by?

Here's what I've figured out: life is messy, people are complicated, and common sense appears to be a limited-edition product that not everybody managed to get their hands on.

You will make mistakes. You will trust people who don't deserve it. You'll probably buy a pair of jeans that make you question your entire existence. You might even repeat a mistake after swearing, with your whole chest, that you would NEVER do that again.

That's life.

But you can learn. You can laugh at yourself. You can apologize when you're wrong. You can stop giving your energy to people who make you miserable. You can be kind without being a pushover, stand up for what you believe without becoming cruel, and enjoy your life without waiting for everybody else to approve.

You don't have to be perfect to be a decent human being.

You don't have to agree with everyone to treat them with respect.

And you don't have to take every damn thing so seriously that you forget to laugh.

Because one day, we're all going to be gone, and I seriously doubt any of us will be lying on our deathbeds wishing we'd spent more time arguing with strangers on the internet.

Although somebody will probably be in the comments insisting I'm wrong about that, too.

So, eat something good, love somebody decent, avoid the sleeping-pill-and-laxative combination, and for the love of everything holy, stop being nasty to waiters.

If you have to choose between being right and being kind, at least consider whether being right is worth turning into an asshole.

And if life keeps handing you lemons?

Make lemonade.

Add vodka if necessary.

Just don't mix it with your sleeping pills.

Until next time, stay kind, stay curious, laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, and don't let the bastards steal your joy.

Love, laughter, and just enough sarcasm to keep things interesting,

-Molly Roxxx

Writer, observer of human nonsense, occasional overthinker, and firm believer that life is too short for bad people, bad jeans, and unnecessary bullshit.

October 17, 2026

Random Thoughts, Bad Decisions, and Why the Hell Does Cheesecake Have Calories?

Somebody needs to explain to me why cheesecake has calories. Seriously. It’s CHEESECAKE. It should be considered a mental health benefit, not a dietary offense. If I’m already having a bad day, the last thing I need is my dessert judging me.

And while we’re fixing things, I want lemon pie without that white whipped egg crap on top. Just lemon pie. Why is that so hard to find? I want a nice, naked lemon pie, not one wearing a fluffy white toupee that looks like Donald Trump because YUCK!

Is that too much to ask?

Apparently, yes. So, naturally, I went looking for writing prompts to give me something to blog about. Because nothing says living my best life like needing a stranger on the internet to suggest a topic while I’m hangry.

Here’s what I came up with.

A Mistake You Made and What You Learned

Oh, honey. Where do I begin? I have made enough mistakes to fill a book, and considering I’m a writer, that could actually be a profitable venture.

Have I learned from them? Maybe. Let’s not get carried away.

I’ve learned that when a baking recipe calls for ¼ teaspoon of salt, you should probably listen instead of thinking you’re some culinary genius who knows better. I’ve learned to wear hockey skates when ice skating because figure skates are so damn narrow my feet hurt for days afterward.

Apparently, my feet have boundaries even when my brain doesn’t.

But I’m guessing this prompt was looking for something a little deeper than ruining a recipe or making my toes question their existence.

Here’s the big one: I’ve trusted people too much.

Toxic people seem to find me like I’m handing out free samples at Costco. I’ve mentioned before that I myself am a true empath. I feel things deeply, pick up on other people’s emotions, and seem to attract people who could suck the happiness out of a room and leave the furniture depressed.

Some people have done me terribly wrong. I’ve forgiven some of them because I needed peace in my soul, calm in my heart, and, if I’m being brutally honest, because I didn’t want to be alone.

That last part isn’t exactly something you put on a motivational poster.

Sometimes I feel pathetic when I look back at the things I’ve tolerated. Other times, I feel proud that I managed to keep my heart open in a world that occasionally seems determined to turn everyone into an asshole.

I can have compassion for people without pretending they treated me well. I can forgive someone without giving them another opportunity to wreck my life.

And maybe that’s what I’m finally learning: having a big heart doesn’t mean handing everyone the damn keys.

A Letter to Your Future Self

Dear Future Self,

Actually, let’s take this back to 23-year-old me, because apparently the younger version of myself needed a lawyer, a therapist, and someone to confiscate her romantic decision-making privileges.

Dear 23-Year-Old Me,

Make Bill a one-night stand. NOT a relationship. Definitely NOT a husband.

Get your son conceived with him, and then GET OUT!

You can love your child without signing up for a lifetime of nonsense with the wrong person. You do not have to turn every man who crosses your path into a permanent life decision.

And for the love of all things holy, stop confusing potential with reality. A man is not a home renovation project. You cannot just keep fixing things until he finally becomes the person you wanted.

With love, frustration, and several decades of hindsight,

Your Future Self

P.S. You were not put on this earth to be somebody’s unpaid emotional support department.

Your Ideal Day From Start to Finish

My ideal day is not complicated. I don’t need a yacht, a mansion, a personal chef, or a vacation package that costs more than my first car.

I want to be left the hell alone with my laptop.

I would turn on YouTube, listen to Eminem, and type until my brain either produces something brilliant or starts making dial-up internet noises. I’d take a nap, hang out with my cat and kitten, and eat foods that would make a nutritionist spontaneously combust.

And there would be PEACE.

No one talking to me. No one talking AT me. No one asking me questions while I’m clearly trying to have a moment with my own damn thoughts.

I want to eat without an audience, write without interruptions, and nap without somebody acting like my closed eyes are an invitation to start a conversation.

I am a simple woman with simple needs.

Give me a laptop, a cat, Eminem, some questionable snacks, and a few hours without human nonsense.

Honestly, if you put that in a gift basket, I might actually cry.

A Major Life Event and How It Shaped You

The birth of my son.

This one isn't funny, and I'm not going to pretend it is. Some experiences are too big to dress up with a punchline.

His birth was terrifying. His heart rate dropped, and the doctors had to perform an emergency C-section. I had a panic attack, and they gave me something that left me unable to open my eyes, speak, or move, although I could still hear what was happening around me.

I was taken in for what I was told would be a 25-minute procedure.

It lasted a little over four hours.

I could hear them saying, “We can’t stop the bleeding,” and “Oh no, we lost her.” I heard the flatline.

I remember seeing glitter all around me. I looked down and saw myself. Then I saw my son, and suddenly I was back in my body, vomiting while they showed him to me.

I was overwhelmed, frightened, and completely unprepared for what had just happened. I had died, and later I learned I had died for 2 full minutes. I had lost so much blood that I needed a transfusion, and the blood wasn't immediately available. I was told that I had been without a heartbeat for about two minutes.

And there was my baby.

I was horrified by what I had experienced, but at the same time, I was filled with a love I can't adequately explain.

That day changed me.

It made life feel fragile in a way I hadn't understood before. It gave me a different perspective on what matters, what doesn't, and how quickly everything can change.

I walked into that experience as one person and came out carrying memories I would never forget and a love that would shape the rest of my life.

Some moments don't need a lesson tied up with a pretty bow. Sometimes you just survive them, carry them with you, and do your best to make something meaningful out of the life you still have.

A Secret Someone Has Kept for Years

Oh, I could tell you a few things.

But I won't.

I have secrets that belong to people near and dear to me, and I promised I wouldn't tell. I'm not about to break that promise just because a writing prompt wants me to spill the tea.

Some people treat a secret like a coupon that expires after 30 days. Not me.

If you trust me with something personal, I'm not going to run around telling everyone with ears.

Besides, I have enough trouble keeping track of my own nonsense. I don't need to manage everybody else's scandalous backstory, too.

So, sorry, nosy internet. This vault is closed.

And no, I will not be accepting bribes in the form of cheesecake.

Well... let's not make promises we can't keep.

Think About a Childhood Dream Coming True

When I was a kid, for some reason, I desperately wanted to be a pizza maker.

I don't know why. Maybe I liked pizza. Maybe I thought making pizza would be glamorous. Maybe I imagined myself tossing dough in the air like some kind of culinary rock star.

Whatever the reason, I wanted that job BADLY.

And when I was 17, my childhood dream came true!

I became a pizza maker.

You know what happened?

It was boring.

Not bad. Not terrible. Just... boring.

Apparently, my grand childhood ambition which was to stand around making pizzas, turned out to be considerably less exciting than the movie playing in my head.

There I was, living the dream, and the dream was basically dough, sauce, cheese, and repetitive hand movements.

Who knew?

I have nothing against pizza makers. Some people are fantastic at it, and I have tremendous respect for anyone who can make food that keeps the rest of us happy. But it wasn't the dream I thought it would be.

And that taught me something useful: sometimes we want something because we've imagined what it will feel like, not because we actually know what it's like to do it.

The fantasy can be a hell of a lot more exciting than the job.

Anyway, Back to My Cheesecake

So, there you have it. A few random thoughts, a handful of mistakes, a childhood dream involving pizza, some serious life experiences, and a woman who still cannot understand why dessert comes with a calorie count.

I'm learning as I go. Sometimes I make good decisions. Sometimes I make questionable ones. Sometimes I forgive people who don't deserve it, and sometimes I wish I could go back in time and slap a few decisions right out of my younger self.

But I'm still here. Still writing. Still laughing when I can. Still loving my cats. Still listening to Eminem. Still trying to find a lemon pie without that damn white stuff on top.

And still convinced that if cheesecake is going to contain calories, the least it could do is pay a portion of my grocery bill.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have absolutely nothing productive to do, but it is 4:30 in the morning so I think I may nap for a bit.

October 17, 2026

Blog #2 For The Day

I Hate Small Talk. Tell Me Something Real, Damn It!

I hate small talk. I wanna talk about magic, intellect, the meaning of life, lies, truths, flaws, your childhood, and your favorite scents. What letter is silent in the word scent? The S or the C? What keeps you up at night? Insecurities, fears, twisted thoughts… I don’t wanna know what’s up or have you asking me “wyd.” I want a conversation, not a hostage negotiation with a phone.

Small talk fills the voids, but it’s really pointless in most cases. Meeting someone new? Sure, it makes sense. You know nothing about them, so you start somewhere. But if I KNOW you, I want to KNOW you better!

Tell me about the magic in your life. When you first fell in love. When you gave birth. When you got your dream job. Tell me about the moment something happened that changed the way you see the world.

I want the good stuff. The weird stuff. The stuff you usually keep to yourself because you’re afraid someone might look at you funny.

Hell, I might look at you funny, too, but at least we'll have something to talk about!

Let's Get a Little Deeper Than "How's the Weather?"

Let's talk about intellect. Or, more clearly, let's discuss something intricate and see what we discover about each other's minds. I'm not asking you to solve a murder mystery while calculating the square root of your ass, but give me SOMETHING to work with!

Let's talk about the meaning of life. The depths, the downfalls, the surprises, the joys, hard work, having things handed to you, love, hate, indifference… ALL OF IT!

What have you learned the hard way? What do you believe that everybody else thinks is crazy? What changed your mind about something you swore you'd never change your mind about?

I don't need you to agree with me. Hell, I don't even need you to make sense all the time. I just want to know there's a brain in there doing something besides remembering passwords and scrolling through Facebook.

Tell Me About Your Childhood!

Were you a preschool and pre-K child, or were you bad to the bone and a right-to-kindergarten child?

Were you the little angel your parents bragged about, or were you the reason your mother had a headache and your father suddenly developed a drinking problem?

Okay, maybe that's a bit extreme. But you get my point!

I want to know what you were like before life got its hands on you. What made you laugh? What scared you? What did you want to be when you grew up?

And did you actually become that person, or did life say, “That's adorable. Here's a pile of bills and three emotional support snacks”?

Childhood tells you a lot about a person. Sometimes it explains why we're the way we are. Other times, it explains why we need therapy and why certain people should never be allowed to babysit.

What Are Your Favorite Scents?

For instance, I hate, and I do mean I HATE, cherries. Yet the smell of wild cherry incense is pretty darn good. Not my favorite smell, but I can appreciate it.

I love the smell of coffee shops and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

There's something about walking into a coffee shop that makes you feel like your life might actually be together. You smell the coffee, hear the little clinking sounds, and suddenly you're a sophisticated adult who probably owns matching towels.

Then you get home, trip over something, and remember you're still you.

Freshly baked chocolate chip cookies? That's a smell that could bring world peace. Put a tray of those in a room full of angry people and watch negotiations begin.

Unless somebody takes the last cookie. Then all bets are off.

What smells take you back to a certain time in your life? Your grandmother's house? The ocean? Fresh-cut grass? Somebody's perfume that you haven't smelled in twenty years but still remember?

See? Now we're talking!

What Keeps You Up at Night?

Your man? Heh heh.

Your baby crying? Bad thoughts? Work? Bills? The fact that you sent a text three hours ago and they haven't answered, so now you're mentally planning a funeral for a relationship that might not even exist?

What are your insecurities?

Mine are all about not being able to walk. I can't do a lot because of this, and 80% of the accessible places I have attempted to go to are not accessible.

Let that sink in for a minute. A place can advertise itself as accessible, and then you get there and discover that apparently the definition of accessibility was written by somebody who has never needed it.

Getting in and out of a vehicle requires having someone who can and will lift my 50-pound chair and put it in and out of the vehicle, too.

And if there's a fire, I'm screwed because there usually isn't a clear way for me to get to the front door. My roommate lives a cluttered life.

But seriously, these are the realities of my life. They're not always pretty, and they're not something I can laugh away with a clever little meme.

I can joke about a lot of things, but that doesn't mean everything is funny when you're the one living it.

Let's Talk About Fear. The Real Kind.

You can share your fears with me.

My insecurities are one thing, but the last one is a fear of mine. I will never share my biggest fear because I don't want someone who dislikes me to make it come true.

That's the thing about being vulnerable. You want to open up, but you also know that not everybody deserves access to the parts of you that hurt.

Trust is a funny little bastard that way.

You can share anything you'd like with me. Just go to the “Say Hello” page on my website and send me an email.

I want to hear what people are really thinking, feeling, experiencing, and struggling with. Not the polished version they post online with a sunset background and a quote about being blessed.

I mean the REAL stuff.

The stuff you can't say at Thanksgiving because Uncle Bob has already had four beers and somebody's about to bring up politics.

Twisted Thoughts Are Welcome, Too!

Twisted thoughts? Those can be anything from wanting to try making a Sprite and tuna fish milkshake to wanting to see if you can transplant a turtle's head onto a rooster's body.

First of all, WHY did your brain put those two things together? Second, I have questions. Third, please stay away from the kitchen and the veterinary equipment.

Thoughts are fine. Please do not try to do anything that would harm a living being.

There's a difference between having a bizarre thought and turning your backyard into a discount Frankenstein laboratory.

I'm talking about imagination, curiosity, strange ideas, and those random thoughts that pop into your head at 2:17 a.m. and make you wonder whether you should be allowed to operate heavy machinery.

I want to know what goes on in that head of yours!

And Here's Where I Get Serious for a Minute.

My point of this whole thought is, LET'S TALK ABOUT SOMETHING!

IDGAF about the weather! I want to hear something REAL!

You want something real from me?

I am very scared right now, living the way I am being forced to live. My location. My health. My health services. My surroundings. My “friends.” My everything.

That's not a joke. That's my reality.

Sometimes you can make people laugh all day long and still be carrying things they know absolutely nothing about. Being funny doesn't mean you're not frightened. Being sarcastic doesn't mean you're not struggling. And being able to make a joke out of a shitty situation doesn't magically make the situation less shitty.

Sometimes laughter is how we get through the day without screaming into a pillow or throwing our phone across the room.

And sometimes we just need somebody to listen without trying to fix us, judge us, or respond with, “Well, everything happens for a reason.”

Oh, does it? And who exactly appointed YOU the spokesperson for the universe?

You want me to go into depth? Send me an email with an actual return email address.

I get a lot of messages with fake email addresses, and I cannot respond to them. Then I'm left wondering why they're written to me in the first place, especially when they contain questions I have no way of answering.

MAKE THAT MAKE SENSE FOR ME!

You can't ask me a question, give me nowhere to send the answer, and expect me to communicate through telepathy. My crystal ball is in the shop, and the psychic department is closed until further notice.

If you genuinely want to talk, I'm here. Just give me a way to write back.

Anyway, Other Than All of That…

Have a wonderful weekend!

Go smell something good. Hang out with good people. Do something nice for yourself and someone else.

Ask somebody a real question. Listen to the answer. Tell somebody something you've never told them before, if you feel safe doing so.

And the next time somebody asks you “wyd,” feel free to respond with, “Contemplating the mysteries of existence. You?”

Let's see how long it takes them to disappear.

Because life is too damn short for nothing but weather reports, fake smiles, and conversations that go absolutely nowhere.

Tell me something real. Make me think. Make me laugh. Make me wonder what the hell goes on in your head.

That's how we connect. That's how we learn about each other. And maybe, just maybe, that's how we make this world a little less lonely and a whole lot more interesting.

Now go have a good weekend, you wonderfully weird humans. And please, for the love of all things holy, if you make a Sprite and tuna fish milkshake, do NOT send me a sample.

I'm curious, not suicidal.

— Molly Roxx

October 18, 2026

Weird Little Habits We All Have, Because Apparently, We’re All a Little Nuts…

Let’s talk about some of the personal habits many of us seem to have. You know, those little things we do that make absolutely no sense, yet we continue doing them because somewhere along the way our brains decided they were perfectly reasonable.

We’re adults. We pay bills, make appointments, and pretend to understand our insurance policies. Yet we’re also out here arguing with household appliances. Make it make sense!

1. Talking to Inanimate Objects

I accidentally kick something, and I swear at it. Then I apologize.

I’ve also clogged the toilet and, as gross as it sounds, apologized for overfeeding it. What do you want from me? It was a Taco Bell night!

I’m standing there apologizing to a toilet like it’s a loyal employee who just had a rough shift.

“Sorry, buddy. That one’s on me.”

Meanwhile, the toilet is probably thinking, Lady, I told you I wasn’t built for this.

And don’t even get me started on the washing machine. If it eats a sock, I’m convinced it did it on purpose. We have a complicated relationship, and trust has been broken.

2. Controlling Volume and Numbers

Everything has to be set to an even number. Odd numbers are bad luck.

I have absolutely no idea where I heard that, but it’s been stuck in my head forever, and I will not let go of it!

If the television volume lands on 17, I have to change it. Eighteen? Acceptable. Sixteen? Also acceptable. Seventeen? Absolutely not. Something terrible might happen, and I refuse to let the universe blame me for it.

The same goes for the car radio. If the volume is on an odd number, I have to fix it.

Because apparently, in addition to being a functioning adult, I’m also the unpaid number police.

Do I believe changing the volume from 17 to 18 will improve my life? No.

Will I do it anyway?

Damn right.

3. Stopping the Microwave Early

You have to. It is the law!

Nobody needs to hear that microwave beep five times like an alarm announcing the end of civilization.

I’m already standing there with my hand on the door, waiting for the timer to hit two seconds. Then I stop it.

Victory!

The food is hot, the microwave is silent, and I have saved myself from hearing a noise that apparently threatens my entire existence.

Is this productive? No.

Does it make me feel like I accomplished something today? Absolutely.

Some people run marathons. I prevent unnecessary beeping.

We all have our gifts.

4. Turning Down the Radio to See Better

Looking for an address? Even with GPS on every phone and in most vehicles, you must turn down the radio or else how are you going to see which driveway to turn into?

SCIENCE, COME ON, BACK ME UP ON THIS ONE!

You can have a GPS voice practically screaming, “TURN RIGHT NOW,” and still turn the radio down because suddenly you can’t see a damn thing.

The music has absolutely nothing to do with your eyesight, but your brain insists that the lower the volume, the clearer the street signs become.

You’re creeping down the road at three miles an hour, squinting at every mailbox like you’re investigating a crime scene.

“Is that number 42? No, that’s 47. Wait, is that even the right street?”

Meanwhile, the people behind you are considering abandoning their vehicles and walking home.

But you know what? We find the house eventually.

Usually.

And if we don’t, we just blame the GPS.

5. Holding Your Breath Over Bridges

I’ve never done this one. Never heard about this one. Have no idea what this is about.

I used to hold my breath passing cemeteries, though, as an act of respect. After all, if they can’t breathe, we shouldn’t be bragging that we can.

Yes, I realize the people buried there aren’t sitting around checking our breathing habits.

Still, my younger self apparently thought the dead deserved some consideration during my afternoon drive.

I had a whole system going on in my head that nobody asked for.

Some people wave at passing strangers. I was silently holding my breath near the cemetery like I was participating in a very strange public service.

Looking back, I have questions.

Mostly, who the hell comes up with this stuff?

Actually, never mind. I probably did.

6. Mental Rehearsals: Arguments That May Never Happen

I do this all the time.

I practice what-if scenarios in my head. Conversations that may never happen. Retorts that should have been said. Entire arguments with people who are currently at home watching television and have no idea they’re involved in my imaginary courtroom drama.

My mind never shuts up about these things!

I can have a whole argument in the shower, win every point, deliver a devastating comeback, and get out feeling like I should receive an award.

Then the actual conversation happens three weeks later, and I say, “Oh. Okay.”

WHERE THE HELL WAS THAT BRILLIANT COMEBACK WHEN I NEEDED IT?

I had a perfectly good speech prepared! It included facts, evidence, emotional impact, and possibly a closing statement.

But no. My mouth decided to go on vacation while my brain sat there buffering.

And the really irritating part? At 2:30 in the morning, my brain will wake me up to remind me of something stupid I said in 1998.

Apparently, my mind has unlimited storage for embarrassment but refuses to remember why I went into the kitchen.

7. Sensory Sniffing: Because Smells Can Take You Places

I smell my new books when I get them from the publisher. I just love the smell of the pages.

I smell peanut butter every time I open it, and I smelled my son's shirts.

After he passed, I would smell his shirts. I wish the fire hadn't taken them all, so I still had one to smell.

He liked to pile on the deodorant. It was just a combination of like three different deodorants, but it was him.

I miss him.

I would give anything for one of his Power Ranger shirts right now.

Funny how something as ordinary as the smell of a shirt can hold so much of a person. A little thing that nobody else might understand can mean the world to you.

A scent can bring back a memory before you even realize what's happening. Suddenly, you're not just smelling an old shirt. You're remembering a person, their habits, their personality, and all those little things that made them who they were.

We joke about sniffing books, opening peanut butter just to smell it, and being weird about everyday things. But sometimes those little habits are connected to something much bigger.

Sometimes, a smell makes you laugh.

Sometimes, it makes you hungry.

And sometimes, it reminds you of someone you would give anything to hug one more time.

Life is funny like that. It gives us ridiculous little habits, strange ways of thinking, and memories tucked away in the most unexpected places.

And sometimes, it takes something away that we never stop wishing we could have back.

I miss my son. And if I could have one of those Power Ranger shirts back, deodorant and all, I wouldn't care how ridiculous anybody thought that was.

I'd hold it close and be grateful for every last bit of him that remained.

So, Are We All Just a Little Nuts?

Probably.

We apologize to toilets, negotiate with microwaves, rearrange radio volumes like we're defusing bombs, and rehearse arguments nobody else knows they're supposed to be having.

We have rules that make no sense, habits we can't explain, and brains that apparently operate without adult supervision.

But we're human. We're weird. We're complicated. Sometimes we're hilarious, sometimes we're sentimental, and sometimes we're both within the same five minutes.

So go ahead. Talk to your toaster. Turn the radio down to find an address. Stop that microwave before it beeps.

Just don't tell me your volume is set to 17.

I don't need that kind of negativity in my life.

And, for those of you who really thinks it matters what I look like to go along with my writing although there are pics of me throughout this blog series, here I am full plus size body almost no makeup and in my chair. Deal with it cuz I am cute AF! I did use AI to change my background and it messed up my tats but it left me looking exactly how I look. The hair, the lines, the wrinkles, the clothes, THE ME.

October 18, 2026

#2 Blog of the day

The Emotional Manipulator: How to Stop Playing Their Little Mind Game…

Yes, I know who you are. And yes, I know I’m dealing with you again. The difference is, I’ve studied you, I’ve learned your tricks, and I finally know how to handle you. Unfortunately, you’re still working with the same tired playbook, and I’ve stopped buying tickets to your bullshit circus.

An emotional manipulator is someone who knows how to use your empathy, guilt, and insecurities to get their way. They twist conversations, change the subject, play the victim, and somehow turn your hurt feelings into their personal tragedy.

It’s a psychological chess game, except you’re trying to have a healthy relationship and they’re trying to win a damn trophy nobody asked them to compete for.

Let’s Play a Little Game Called “How Did This Become My Fault?”

You gently explain that it hurt when they canceled plans on you for the third time this month.

A normal person might say, “I’m sorry. I know that was inconsiderate.”

An emotional manipulator sighs like you’ve just asked him to donate a kidney and then he says…

“I guess I just can’t do anything right in your eyes.”

Suddenly, you’re comforting him, apologizing for being insensitive, and forgetting why you opened your mouth in the first place.

Congratulations! You walked into the conversation with a legitimate complaint and walked out feeling like you kicked a puppy.

That, my friends, is called flipping the script. Instead of taking responsibility for what they did, they make you responsible for how they feel about being called out.

And if you’re an empathetic person who genuinely cares about others, this can be particularly effective. You don’t want to hurt anybody, so you start questioning yourself. Maybe you were too harsh. Maybe you should have been more understanding. Maybe you should just let it go.

Meanwhile, the original problem is sitting in the corner wearing a fake mustache, hoping nobody remembers it exists.

A Little About Narcissists and Other Emotional Gymnasts

Not every toxic person is a narcissist, and not every selfish jerk qualifies for a psychological diagnosis. But people with strong narcissistic traits may have an excessive need for admiration, a sense of entitlement, difficulty accepting criticism, and trouble taking responsibility when they’ve done something wrong.

Some become experts at guilt-tripping, withholding affection, twisting facts, or making you question your own judgment.

And yes, research has found that men, on average, score higher than women on certain narcissistic personality measures, particularly entitlement and exploitativeness. That does not mean all men are narcissists or that women can't be manipulative. Toxic behavior doesn't check your driver's license before showing up.

Unfortunately, some people of either sex treat relationships like a competition they must win, even if winning means making the person who loves them miserable.

What a prize. Somebody get this person a trophy and a therapist.

So, What Would I Do Differently Now?

Now, from my previous experiences, studying narcissism, and deciding I’m practically a professional on the subject since I’ve written a book about it called Married to Diablo (available in my bookstore on this website) here’s how I’d handle that little cancellation routine.

First, I’d stop making their behavior the center of my universe.

He cancels plans? Fine.

Instead of spending the evening explaining how disappointed I am, I’d say:

“Cool! Now I have time to see that movie I’ve been wanting to watch.”

And then I’d go see the damn movie.

I wouldn’t sit home staring at my phone, waiting for him to realize how badly he hurt me. I wouldn’t send a six-paragraph text that requires a lawyer, a therapist, and the FBI to interpret. And I certainly wouldn’t spend three hours trying to make a grown man understand that other people's time matters.

I have a life, and he is not the entire entertainment department.

Will he be pissed that I’m perfectly capable of enjoying myself without him? Maybe. Too bad. He canceled the plans, not me.

Now, he might suddenly decide he wants to see me after all. Funny how that works when you stop acting like you're sitting on a shelf waiting for him to pick you up.

My response?

“Nah, go do your thing. I’m excited about this movie.”

If he wants to join me, I might say, “Actually, I was thinking of bringing a friend,” or “I could really use some time to myself tonight.”

And then I’d follow through.

Not to punish him. Not to play games. Not to make him jealous.

Because my time, my plans, and my happiness are not disposable just because somebody else has the emotional maturity of a wet paper towel.

The point isn't to pretend you don't care when somebody hurts you. It's to stop handing them the power to determine whether you get to enjoy your own life.

And let's be clear: you can absolutely tell someone their behavior hurt you. A healthy partner will listen, even if the conversation is uncomfortable. The trick is recognizing when someone repeatedly uses your honesty against you. You don't have to keep presenting evidence to a person who has already decided they're innocent.

Stop Giving Them the Reaction They're Shopping For

Some emotional manipulators thrive on chaos. They want the argument, the tears, the long explanations, the endless reassurance that they're still the most important person in your life.

So, you explain yourself again.

And again.

And AGAIN.

At this point, you could publish a three-volume encyclopedia titled Why I'm Upset With You, and they'd still ask what your problem is.

You cannot always reason someone into treating you with respect, especially when they benefit from not doing so.

Sometimes the best response is a calm sentence, a firm boundary, and getting on with your day.

“I understand you're upset, but my decision hasn't changed.”

That's it. No courtroom defense. No emotional PowerPoint presentation. No opening statements from either attorney.

And if the behavior continues, you decide what you're willing to accept and what you're no longer willing to live with. Boundaries aren't magic spells that make toxic people behave. They're decisions about what you will do when their behavior crosses the line.

Here's What I Want You to Remember

You can love somebody without making them your whole world.

You can care about their feelings without becoming their unpaid emotional support department.

And you can forgive somebody without giving them unlimited access to hurt you again.

The moment you realize that your life doesn't have to stop every time someone else throws a tantrum, something changes. You stop chasing explanations, stop begging for basic consideration, and start remembering the person you were before all this nonsense consumed your energy.

So, the next time somebody cancels on you, changes the story, or tries to make you feel guilty for expecting common courtesy, remember this:

You are allowed to enjoy your life even when somebody else is disappointed that you're not sitting around waiting for them.

Go see the movie. Have dinner with your friends. Buy yourself something nice. Laugh too loudly. Enjoy your damn Saturday.

And if they don't like it?

Well, that's a shame.

Anyway, the movie starts in ten minutes, and unlike some people, it actually shows up when it's supposed to.

— Molly Roxx

October 19, 2026

Things We Actually Have to Deal With as Adults, and Frankly, Who the Hell Approved This Shit?

Being an adult is mostly just being tired, looking for something you just had in your hand, and wondering why nobody warned you that life was going to be one long episode of What the Hell Am I Doing?

Nobody tells you that adulthood involves reading the same instructions seven times, arguing with people who aren't even in the room, and opening the refrigerator like a delicious little miracle might have happened since the last time you checked.

Let's talk about it.

1. Rereading Food Package Instructions After You've Already Thrown the Box Away

Every. Single. Time.

I've made the same damn thing seven times, and somehow I still need to quadruple-check the instructions like I'm performing emergency surgery on a box of macaroni.

"Was it one cup of water or two? Three minutes or five? Do I stir before or after? WHY DOES THIS PASTA HAVE SO MANY RULES?"

Then I throw the package away and suddenly need it again. Now I'm digging through the trash like a raccoon with a culinary degree.

Honestly, this is why I started making up my own recipes. I'm actually a pretty good cook, and once you've been cooking since you were about twelve, you learn a thing or two. Eventually, you stop needing a box to tell you how to boil water.

Although, these days, my kitchen situation is a little more complicated than I'd like, so I make do with what I can keep on hand. Sometimes that means eating straight out of a can because convenience is king, space is limited, and I'm not about to audition for MasterChef: The Couch Edition.

And before anyone judges me, some of the best meals in history probably started with somebody staring into a cupboard and saying, "Well, shit. Let's see what happens."

2. Turning Down the Car Stereo So You Can See Better While Parallel Parking

Apparently, the theory is that if you can't hear yourself think, you can't park either.

So, you turn down the music, lean forward, grip the steering wheel like you're landing a Boeing 747, and suddenly believe you're operating on a higher level of intelligence.

Does it work?

I wouldn't know. I suck at parallel parking.

But now I have a perfectly reasonable explanation. It's not my parking skills. It's the radio.

Finally, science has given me the answer I've been looking for.

And if anyone asks why I need three business days and a spotter to park a car, just tell them I'm conducting an experiment.

3. Having Full-Volume Arguments With People Who Aren't Even There

Oh, this is my specialty.

I can win an argument in the shower, in the car, on the couch, at the mall, or standing in the middle of a field looking like I'm about to deliver a TED Talk to the grass.

I have comebacks that would make a courtroom go silent. I have speeches so brilliant that the imaginary audience in my head gives me a standing ovation.

Naturally, when the actual person is standing in front of me, half of what I wanted to say disappears, and I'm left remembering something devastating I should have said approximately six hours later.

At 2 a.m.

While trying to sleep.

WHY DOES MY BRAIN HAVE A DELAYED DELIVERY SERVICE?

The truth is, sometimes those imaginary arguments aren't funny at all. Sometimes you've got so much bottled-up frustration that your mind keeps replaying conversations because you never get the chance to say what you really feel.

You try to explain yourself, but somehow your feelings become somebody else's emergency. You end up managing their reactions instead of dealing with your own emotions, and before you know it, you've apologized for having a pulse.

It's exhausting.

Sometimes you just want someone to listen without yelling, twisting your words, or making you feel like expressing yourself is a criminal offense.

You don't need a debate team. You need a little peace, a little understanding, and possibly a large rainbow cake that nobody asks you to share.

And if you've ever practiced an entire conversation in your head, congratulations. You've officially attended both sides of the argument.

Unfortunately, neither side has learned a damn thing.

4. Pretending You Don't See Someone in the Grocery Store

You spot them at the end of the aisle.

Your stomach drops.

Your eyes widen.

Suddenly, the pet food section looks like the most fascinating place on Earth.

You don't even own a dog.

Doesn't matter. You're going to study every bag of kibble like you're writing a doctoral thesis on chicken-flavored dog food.

Some people will do absolutely anything to avoid an awkward conversation. Others will turn around, abandon their shopping cart, and disappear so quickly that the store manager assumes they've witnessed a crime.

And sometimes, avoiding someone isn't about being rude. It's about protecting your peace.

I've learned that one the hard way.

Years ago, I opened my home and my heart to people I met through social media. I helped a family get back on their feet, gave them somewhere to stay for six weeks, and spent a year and a half driving them around while they worked toward getting a car of their own.

I gave because I cared. I thought we were friends.

Once they had their own transportation, the friendship changed, and I eventually realized that the kindness I'd offered wasn't being returned in the way I'd hoped.

Funny how some people remember every favor you can do for them but develop temporary amnesia when it's their turn to show up for you.

Six years ago, I ran into one of those former friends at a store. She followed me and got right in my face to say hello.

And me?

I ignored her.

Completely.

Not a word. Not a conversation. Not even a complimentary review of her shopping choices.

I was proud of myself because I finally understood that I didn't owe someone access to me simply because I'd once been kind to them.

That chapter was closed, and my life was better for it.

Sometimes the most satisfying ending isn't revenge. It's realizing that someone no longer has a front-row seat to your life.

And yes, having a big heart can be a beautiful thing. But apparently, it can also make you an unpaid chauffeur, temporary landlord, personal assistant, and all-around customer service department for people who wouldn't cross the street to help you.

At some point, you have to stop confusing being a good person with being available for mistreatment.

I still want to believe in people. I still want to help when I can. But I'd also like to experience a little of the kindness I keep handing out like free samples at Costco.

Where's my karma? Is it stuck in traffic? Did it take a wrong turn? Does it need the instructions from the box I threw away?

Because I'd really appreciate a delivery of peace, happiness, and a quiet place to breathe.

No signature required.

5. Carrying Every Grocery Bag in One Trip Because Two Trips Feel Like Defeat

You know the drill.

You come home with twelve bags, a case of water, and enough groceries to feed a small village.

Your sensible brain says, "Take two trips."

Your stubborn brain says, "ABSOLUTELY NOT. WE HAVE A REPUTATION."

So, you load bags onto your arms until you look like a Christmas tree decorated by someone who has never seen a Christmas tree.

Keys? Buried.

Phone? Somewhere under the bread.

Blood circulation? A distant memory.

And yet, you keep going.

Even using a wheelchair, I still find myself trying to manage as much as I can in one go. I'll arrange the bags, load myself up, and attempt a grocery-store version of an obstacle course.

Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I discover that gravity remains undefeated.

But I try, and effort counts.

There's something satisfying about doing what you can, even when the world seems determined to make simple things unnecessarily complicated.

Of course, there is also absolutely no shame in making two trips. We're adults. We can carry our groceries in stages without losing our citizenship.

Besides, if you drop the eggs, the entire operation has been a failure anyway.

6. Staring Into the Refrigerator, Hoping Dinner Will Assemble Itself

We've all done it.

You open the refrigerator.

You stare.

You close it.

You walk away.

Thirty seconds later, you return and open it again because surely something has changed.

Perhaps a fully prepared lasagna has materialized on the middle shelf. Maybe a tiny chef moved in overnight and prepared a roast chicken with all the trimmings.

Nope.

Still half a bottle of dressing, some questionable leftovers, three condiments you don't remember buying, and a bag of vegetables slowly losing the will to live.

You stare at everything like the refrigerator personally owes you dinner.

And let's be honest, sometimes we're not even hungry. We're bored.

We're not looking for food. We're looking for entertainment with cheese in it.

The problem is that the refrigerator has terrible customer service. No suggestions, no samples, no helpful little menu. Just cold air and disappointment.

This is why I recommend keeping a book nearby.

Better yet, pick up a book written by Molly Roxx.

Your boredom will melt away, your imagination will get a workout, and you might even forget about the leftover mystery container in the back of the fridge.

And if you don't, at least you'll have something entertaining to read while deciding whether those leftovers are still legally considered food.

You're welcome.

The Bottom Line

Adulthood is a strange little circus. We're all doing our best, improvising dinner, avoiding people we'd rather not see, and having imaginary arguments that deserve their own Netflix specials.

Some days we nail it. Some days we eat from a can, lose an argument we haven't actually had, and consider going back to bed.

And sometimes, that's enough.

Here's what I've figured out: you can have a good heart without letting everyone walk all over it, and you can be a responsible adult without having your entire life figured out.

So, take care of yourself, laugh when you can, protect your peace, and remember that you do not have to carry every bag in one trip.

Especially the emotional baggage.

That shit is heavy.

Now excuse me. I have a refrigerator to check. I'm pretty sure dinner hasn't magically appeared yet, but I'm willing to give it one more chance.

October 19, 2026

Second Blog of the Day

The Day My Hair Declared War (And I Lost My Damn Mind)…

Some mornings, you wake up feeling fabulous. Other mornings, you look in the mirror and wonder if you were attacked by a weed whacker in your sleep.

Today, my hair apparently woke up, chose violence, and decided I was no longer in charge of my own damn head.

The Day My Hair Declared War

I woke up this morning, all sleepy and sweet,
With a head full of hair that had plans to compete.
It stuck to the left, then shot to the right,
Like a startled raccoon in the middle of flight!

I combed it, I brushed it, I begged it to care,
But my hair just stood up and declared, “I DON’T CARE!”

I slapped on some gel, gave a threatening glare,
It puffed up much bigger and swallowed my chair!

So, I put on a hat and went out with a grin,
While my hair threw a party and danced in the wind.

If beauty is power, I’m clearly a queen—
With the wildest damn hair ever seen on the scene!

When Your Hair Has More Attitude Than You Do

Let's be honest. A bad hair day isn't just a bad hair day. It's a full-blown hostage situation involving a brush, three products you bought because some woman on the internet promised miracles, and a bathroom mirror that clearly hates you.

You wet it down. It springs back up.

You flatten it. It develops a second story.

You try to make it look casual, and suddenly you look like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket while arguing with a raccoon.

And don't even get me started on humidity. That shit doesn't affect my hair. It possesses it.

I've seen perfectly reasonable women stand in front of a mirror, holding a curling iron like a weapon, whispering things that would make a sailor blush. All because one stubborn piece of hair refuses to cooperate.

Meanwhile, the hair has absolutely no plans to cooperate. It has a meeting at noon, a rebellion at one, and a date with Satan at three.

And the worst part? The minute you give up, throw on a hat, and decide you don't give a flying rat's ass anymore, somebody takes a picture.

Of course they do.

Because the universe has a sick sense of humor, and apparently, it's been saving its best material for your driver's license photo.

So, here's my advice: If your hair wants to look like it lost a bar fight, let it. Put on your favorite shirt, slap on some lipstick if that's your thing, and go live your life.

You're not starring in a hair commercial. You're a human being, and some days your head looks like a disgruntled tumbleweed.

Tomorrow, you can try again.

Or you can wear a hat.

Personally, I'm not ruling out a paper bag with eyeholes.

Stay fabulous, stay sarcastic, and never trust a mirror before you've had a chance to threaten it.

October 19, 2026

THIRD BLOG OF THE DAY

About Me, My Standards, and Why I Still Believe Good Things Are Coming…

Let me tell you something about me, about how I see myself, and about every decent human being still trying to make this world a little less of a shit show.

You will always win when you move with love and genuine intentions. Always.

Maybe not immediately. Maybe not in the way you expected. And maybe not without wanting to throw a chair across the room occasionally. But there is something powerful about knowing you treated people with kindness, stood by your values, and didn't have to become an asshole just because life introduced you to a few professionals in the field.

I respect people who have morals without needing an audience, manners without needing applause, self-awareness without a three-hour argument, and enough common sense to know that being loud doesn't automatically make you right.

And empathy? That's attractive as hell. I'd take a genuinely kind heart over a pretty face and a personality that needs its own warning label any day.

One thing I've noticed about emotionally secure people is that they don't make others feel stupid for enjoying what makes them happy. They don't mock your music, your books, your art, your movies, or your sense of humor just because it isn't their thing.

Not everything has to be for you to be worth appreciating.

Imagine that. Letting someone enjoy their favorite song without acting like you're the president of the Damn Music Appreciation Committee. What a revolutionary concept.

I love friendships that make me better. The kind that inspire me to be kinder, think smarter, take better care of myself, and remember who the hell I am when life gets messy. Give me people who bring peace, honesty, laughter, and encouragement into my life. People who celebrate my growth instead of secretly hoping I stay small enough to make them comfortable.

We're too damn grown to keep entertaining relationships that leave us emotionally exhausted and wondering whether we need a hug or a restraining order.

And as for me?

My next move is to become everything I said I would be—and then some.

I'm still learning, still growing, still figuring things out. I haven't mastered life, and frankly, life keeps changing the instructions anyway. But I know what I want to stand for. I know the kind of person I want to be. And I refuse to let disappointment turn me into someone I wouldn't recognize in the mirror.

I want to keep my heart soft without becoming anybody's doormat. I want to love deeply without abandoning myself. I want to laugh loudly, live honestly, and keep moving forward even when the road looks like it was designed by a drunk raccoon.

And if you're reading this while quietly wondering whether things will ever get better, listen to me for a minute.

You, yes YOU, are going to make it.

I know you might not believe that today. Maybe you're tired of being strong. Maybe you've cried over things nobody knows about, smiled when you wanted to fall apart, or wondered how much more one person is supposed to handle before life finally takes its foot off their neck.

I've wanted to give up so many times I can't even count that high. And trust me, math was never going to be my saving grace.

But I'm still here. And if you're still here, your story isn't finished either.

I believe there are blessings we haven't seen coming, solutions we haven't thought of, healing we haven't experienced, love we haven't found, and beautiful changes waiting beyond the mess we're currently trying to survive.

Call it faith. Call it hope. Call it refusing to let life's bullshit have the final word.

Whatever you call it, don't give up on yourself just because you can't see the whole picture yet.

You don't have to have everything figured out today. You don't have to be fearless. You don't even have to feel particularly inspiring. Some days, getting out of bed, taking a shower, and not telling three people exactly where they can shove their opinions is a perfectly respectable achievement.

Just keep going.

Keep your intentions genuine. Keep your standards. Protect your peace. Celebrate other people's happiness without feeling threatened by it. Surround yourself with people who make your world brighter, and remember that you deserve the same kindness you so freely give away.

Because here's what I know: I don't want to reach the end of my life having won every argument but lost my compassion. I don't want to be so guarded that nothing beautiful can reach me. And I sure as hell don't want to become bitter because a few people didn't know how to treat a good heart.

I want to win differently.

With peace. With laughter. With people I can trust. With a life that feels like mine. With the satisfaction of knowing I stayed true to myself even when it would've been easier to become someone else's version of cruel.

And I want that for you, too.

So, hold on a little longer. Your life can change in ways you cannot possibly predict right now. Give yourself permission to believe in better days, even if all you've got today is a tiny spark of hope and a stubborn refusal to let the bastards win.

Great things are on the horizon. Not just some distant horizon. YOUR horizon.

And when your moment comes, I hope you recognize it, welcome it, and enjoy the hell out of it.

You've survived enough to deserve some damn good days.

Now let's go find them.

October 20, 2026

People Are Complicated, Life Is Ridiculous, and Apparently We're Supposed to Grow Through It…

I don't know who came up with the idea that life gets easier as you get older, but I'd like to speak to that person. Preferably in a room with no windows.

Because here we are, trying to become emotionally healthy, maintain relationships, pay bills, and remember why we walked into the kitchen, all while pretending we're perfectly capable adults.

Meanwhile, somebody we know is still confusing bad behavior with a personality, and somebody else is explaining why their inability to communicate is actually everybody else's fault.

It's exhausting.

But I've discovered something useful: life gets considerably better when you stop trying to make sense of every ridiculous person who crosses your path and start paying attention to the people who make being alive feel a little less complicated.

You know, the ones who keep their promises, tell the truth, remember what you said, and don't make you regret answering the phone.

Apparently, these people do exist. I hear they're lovely.

The trick is learning to recognize them before you waste three years trying to turn somebody else's emotional disaster into a love story.

And that brings us to commitment.

It's easy to promise somebody the moon when you're in a good mood. Keeping your word when you're irritated, inconvenienced, or no longer getting what you want is where your character makes an appearance.

The same goes for the promises you make yourself. You can't keep saying you're choosing peace while repeatedly inviting chaos back into your life because it sent you a message saying it misses you.

That's not fate. That's poor guest management.

And speaking of guests, some people need to lose their permanent reservation in your life.

Not because you're cruel. Not because you think you're better than them. But because you've finally realized that being understanding doesn't mean you have to understand the same damn lesson forty-one times.

You can forgive someone without trusting them again. You can wish somebody well without wishing them back into your living room. And you can admit you made mistakes in a relationship without accepting responsibility for everything that went wrong.

That's called growing up emotionally. It's considerably less glamorous than it sounds, but the benefits are excellent.

You stop arguing with people who aren't listening. You stop chasing people who aren't interested. And you stop confusing anxiety with chemistry just because somebody makes your stomach feel like it's trying to escape your body.

Turns out, butterflies aren't always romance. Sometimes your instincts are trying to tell you to get the hell out of there.

And when you finally start choosing peace over chaos, something interesting happens.

You discover that happiness doesn't need a dramatic soundtrack.

Sometimes it's a good conversation, a quiet morning, a friend who genuinely celebrates your success, or the realization that you haven't thought about the person who used to ruin your entire week.

That's progress.

Not the kind that requires an inspirational announcement on social media. The kind that quietly changes your life.

And if you can reach that point without losing your sense of humor, even better.

Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you can take your life seriously without taking every ridiculous thing in it seriously.

Some days call for reflection. Other days call for laughing at the absolute nonsense of being human.

Preferably both, because we're going to need all the help we can get.

October 21, 2026

Classic 1980s Childhood Memories: We Survived, Somehow, and Apparently That’s a Problem…

Let me tell you something about growing up in the 1980s. We didn’t have half the safety warnings, supervision, or common sense reminders that exist today. We had bicycles, questionable judgment, and parents who seemed perfectly comfortable with the possibility that we might disappear until suppertime.

And somehow, here we are. Mostly functional adults. Some of us, anyway. I’m not naming names.

The Sunup-to-Sundown Rule: Nobody Knew Where the Hell We Were

When I was growing up, we left the house after breakfast and came home when the streetlights came on. That was pretty much the parenting plan.

My parents generally had no idea where we were, and for the most part, they didn't seem particularly concerned. Unless somebody else's parents started looking for their kids. Then suddenly, everybody was in trouble.

Apparently, the neighborhood could operate for ten hours without adult supervision, but the moment somebody's mother started asking questions, we were all suspects in a federal investigation.

And then we got older, and suddenly we had curfews.

Excuse me? You people didn't know my location for the first ten years of my life, but now I have to be home by six?

What changed? Did the government finally install tracking devices in teenagers?

It made absolutely no sense. You let a child roam the neighborhood like a tiny, unsupervised explorer, and then, just when they develop the ability to make slightly better decisions, you want a schedule.

Parents. Bless their hearts. They were winging it, too.

Hose Water: The Beverage of Questionable Origin

Today's children hear that we drank water straight from a garden hose and look at us like we survived a nuclear accident.

We didn't stand around inspecting the hose for microscopic contaminants. We didn't conduct a scientific analysis of the water temperature. We were thirsty, the hose was there, and we drank.

There may have been bugs in that thing. Who knows? I certainly wasn't holding a committee meeting about it.

Our parents weren't coming outside every twenty minutes asking if we needed a refreshing beverage. We had a hose. We were good.

Now, apparently, we're supposed to believe that drinking hose water was the height of reckless behavior.

Meanwhile, some kids today are huffing cooking spray and doing things that would make a drunk question their decision-making skills.

But sure. 80’s kids drank from a garden hose, so obviously we’re the dangerous ones!

I love the logic.

And before anybody gets excited, I'm not recommending that anybody drink questionable water. I'm simply pointing out that our childhood memories are being treated like a documentary about primitive survival.

We weren't living in the wilderness. We were in the backyard.

Universal Neighborhood Hydration? Not at My House!

Some people claim that every garden hose in the neighborhood was a public water fountain, available to any passing child on a bicycle.

Not me.

If I was at a friend's house, fine. If I was thirsty, I could ask. I had manners!

I wasn't riding down the street looking at people's yards like a dehydrated burglar searching for an unlocked water supply.

Imagine somebody walking into your yard today, turning on your hose, taking a drink, and leaving without saying a word.

You'd probably call the police, but back then heck, some of us even drank pool water! And, we all know what is in pool water!

But apparently, if you did it in 1986 wearing tube socks and riding a Huffy, it was just part of the community. And I had a Schwin not a Huffy. I wanted a Huffy so bad but my dad was a Schwin man. It was cool though. Red glittery banana seat. Yeah, I was the shit.

The Bicycle Squad: Helmets Were Apparently a Foreign Concept

We rode our bikes without helmets, knee pads, elbow pads, or an adult following behind us with a first-aid kit.

Sometimes we fell. We got back up and kept riding.

No dramatic production. No twelve-page incident report. Just a quick assessment of whether anything was broken and whether we could still operate the pedals.

If the bike worked, we were back in business.

My bike was actually hit by a car once while I was riding it. Thankfully, I was okay, but the front of my bike was bent all to hell.

The lady got out, checked to make sure I was okay, and apparently considered her responsibilities fulfilled.

Meanwhile, MY BICYCLE HAD JUST BEEN MURDERED.

I was standing there with the remains of my transportation, and she went on her merry way.

I don't remember anybody holding a funeral for that bike. No flowers. No memorial service. No tiny bicycle-shaped headstone.

Just me, a wrecked bike, and another childhood memory that probably explains why adults have so many stories that begin with, "You won't believe what happened to me when I was a kid."

We were lucky in plenty of ways. And yes, wearing helmets is a good idea. I'm not arguing against safety. I'm just saying that if you grew up in the '80s, your childhood probably included at least one situation that would make today's parents need to sit down.

Saturday Morning Cartoons: Smurfs, Smurfs, and More Smurfs!

Saturday mornings were sacred.

You got up early to watch cartoons, and I was absolutely a Smurfs fan. Loved them then, still enjoy the movies now.

Smurfette was my girl. Smurfette's ride-or-die, baby!

And honestly, what wasn't to love? A whole village of tiny blue people living in mushroom houses while Gargamel spent his entire life trying to catch them.

That man needed a hobby he didn’t suck at. He had a pretty cute cat though. And his cat was so much smarter than he was it just made the show that much funnier.

Imagine devoting your existence to chasing a group of little blue people who are roughly the size of a large potato. At some point, somebody needs to pull him aside and say, "Gargamel, have you considered getting a job?"

But no. He was committed.

And we were committed to watching him fail, week after week, while eating whatever cereal happened to be in the cupboard.

Those cartoons were part of my childhood. We didn't need a streaming service with seventeen subscriptions and a password that nobody could remember. We had a television, a Saturday morning, and a perfectly reasonable expectation that the Smurfs would be there.

Honestly, the Smurfs were more reliable than some adults I've met.

Landline Phones: We Actually Knew People's Numbers!

Remember rotary phones or push button phones and those long cords attached to the wall?

If you wanted to talk to a friend, you called their house. You knew their number by heart, and if their parents answered, you had to speak to an actual adult before getting to the person you wanted.

Terrifying.

Now I barely remember my own phone number. I remember my childhood one though. 295-7426.

We've got phones that can identify our location, recognize our faces, order practically anything, and find directions to a building we've never visited. But ask me to remember ten digits without looking at a screen, and suddenly my brain has left the country.

And don't even get me started on what phones have done to conversations.

We carry these things everywhere, yet people barely talk to each other anymore.

Go out with friends, go on a date, sit in a room full of people, and everybody is staring at a screen.

You're physically together, but mentally you're attending seventeen different events on the internet.

You could be sitting across from the love of your life, and they're watching a stranger renovate a bathroom.

Romantic, isn't it?

I genuinely miss people talking to each other. Real conversations. Eye contact. Laughing together without somebody stopping every thirty seconds to check whether the world has survived without their immediate supervision.

I don't hate technology itself. I hate what happens when we forget there's a whole human being sitting right in front of us.

We have phones that connect us to almost anyone on the planet, and somehow we've become experts at ignoring the people in the same room.

Explain that one to me, because apparently, I'm missing an update.

Common Sense: The Rare and Endangered Species

Here's where things get really interesting.

I grew up without warning labels telling me not to eat soap, drink cleaning products, or stick random objects into electrical outlets.

Somehow, I made it this far using a little common sense.

Now, I understand that accidents happen, children are curious, and safety warnings can genuinely save lives. I'm not suggesting we remove every warning label and let nature sort things out.

But some of these warnings make you stop and wonder what happened to humanity.

We have to tell people not to use certain products in ways that should never have occurred to a functioning adult in the first place.

For example, it would seem obvious that you shouldn't take a bath with a toaster.

And yet, somewhere in the world, somebody probably made that decision and forced an entire industry to reconsider its packaging.

One person ruins it for everybody.

That's how we get warning labels.

Somebody does something spectacularly stupid, and the rest of us have to read instructions that sound like they were written by a lawyer who has completely lost faith in humanity.

And medication commercials? They'll tell you to consult a doctor, explain a list of possible side effects, and remind you not to take the medication if you're allergic to it.

Well, yes. If I'm allergic to something, I probably shouldn't be taking it.

What's next?

"Do not attempt to fly by jumping off your roof."

"Do not use your hair dryer while swimming."

"Please ensure your parachute is attached before exiting the aircraft."

At this point, I'm afraid to open a package without adult supervision, and I AM THE ADULT.

Were We Tougher, or Were the Adults Just Wingin' It?

I don't think every single thing about growing up in the '80s was better. We had our share of bad decisions, questionable safety practices, and adults who probably should have paid a little more attention.

But childhood did have something wonderful about it: freedom.

We played outside. We rode our bikes. We made up games. We got into arguments, worked things out, and occasionally came home looking like we'd lost a fight with the sidewalk.

We learned by doing, sometimes the hard way.

Today's world has more information, more technology, and more ways to keep people safe. That's a good thing.

But I do wonder whether we've reached a point where we explain absolutely everything, supervise absolutely everything, and warn people about absolutely everything because somewhere along the way, we stopped trusting anyone to figure out the obvious.

Common sense isn't about knowing every rule. It's about being able to look at a situation and think, "Hmm. This seems like a spectacularly bad idea. Perhaps I shouldn't."

It's the ability to recognize that a garden hose is not a five-star restaurant, a moving car is not a bicycle accessory, and a toaster does not belong in the bathtub.

These things should not require a committee.

And yet, here we are.

We survived the '80s with fewer instructions, fewer electronic distractions, and a remarkable amount of questionable decision-making.

We weren't invincible. We were just kids growing up in a different time.

And if nothing else, we learned one very important lesson:

If somebody has to put a warning label on something that obvious, there's probably a story behind it.

And I would very much like to meet the person responsible.

Not to judge them, of course.

I just have a few questions.

— Molly Roxx

October 22, 2026

Life Is Complicated, People Are Peculiar, and Apparently, We Have to Learn to Love Ourselves Along the Way…

Let’s talk about becoming a better, happier version of ourselves, because apparently being born wasn’t enough paperwork. We also have to develop emotional intelligence, establish boundaries, heal old wounds, and learn not to tell someone exactly what we think of them when they’re being an absolute pain in the ass.

Personal growth. What a delightful little circus.

The good news? You don’t have to become a completely different person to improve your life. You just have to stop letting every idiot with an opinion have a front-row seat to your peace of mind.

And if you’ve ever wondered why life feels like an instruction manual written by someone who hates you, welcome to the club. We have absolutely no idea what we’re doing, but at least we can learn a few things along the way.

Be Kind, But Don't Be a Damn Doormat

You can dislike someone without treating them like they crawled out of a sewer carrying a personal invitation to ruin your day.

Being civil to someone you don't care for doesn't make you fake. It means you've decided your character isn't going to be determined by theirs.

You can say good morning without wanting to spend the next six hours in their company. You can wish someone well without wanting them anywhere near your life. And you can forgive someone without handing them another opportunity to make a complete mess of your existence.

Kindness is a reflection of who you are, not a reward people earn by behaving themselves.

However, kindness does not mean allowing someone to walk all over you. You're a human being, not a welcome mat with a pulse.

You can be compassionate and still say, "No, thank you. I've already reached my lifetime limit of your nonsense."

Both things can be true.

Watch What You Tell Yourself, Because Your Brain Can Be a Lying Little Bastard

Your thoughts matter. If you spend every morning telling yourself you're useless, unattractive, incapable, and destined to fail, don't be surprised when you start believing the world's most unqualified motivational speaker.

Your brain can turn one bad day into a prediction for the rest of your life.

You make a mistake at work, and suddenly you're convinced you should move to a remote island and introduce yourself under an assumed name.

Someone doesn't return your message, and your mind has already planned a funeral for the friendship, written the eulogy, and blamed you for everything since 2004.

Slow down!

A thought is not automatically a fact just because it arrived in your head wearing an expensive-looking suit.

Instead of telling yourself, "I always screw everything up," try asking, "Did I actually mess everything up, or did I make one mistake like every other human being on this planet?"

There's a difference.

You are allowed to have a bad day without declaring yourself a failed human experiment. You're allowed to feel uncertain without deciding you're incapable. And you're allowed to make mistakes without treating yourself like you've committed a crime against humanity.

Besides, if perfection were required for participation in life, the entire population would be sitting on the sidelines.

Some of us can't even open a stubborn plastic package without needing an engineering degree and a small emotional support team.

Start Feeding Your Mind Something Better Than Your Worst Fears

Pay attention to the way you speak to yourself. Your inner dialogue should not sound like an angry landlord threatening to evict you from your own existence.

Try giving yourself a little encouragement.

Think about healing instead of assuming you'll always hurt. Think about possibilities instead of deciding every door is permanently locked. Make room for peace, happiness, success, and growth, even when your present circumstances aren't exactly cooperating.

You don't have to pretend everything is wonderful when it isn't.

Positive thinking doesn't mean standing in the middle of a disaster, smiling like a lunatic, and announcing that everything happens for a reason.

Sometimes things happen because people make terrible decisions. Sometimes life is unfair. Sometimes you do everything you can and still get an outcome you didn't want.

That's reality.

Positivity means believing that your present circumstances don't have to dictate every chapter that comes next.

You can acknowledge that today is difficult while believing tomorrow might be better. You can admit you're hurting without deciding you'll hurt forever. You can be disappointed in yourself without giving up on yourself.

You don't need to solve your entire life before breakfast. Just try not to become your own worst enemy before the day has even properly started.

You Are Allowed to Change Your Mind

Remember when you wanted something so badly you could practically taste it?

Maybe it was a relationship, a career, a particular lifestyle, or a future you spent years imagining.

Then life happened. You learned a few things. You changed. You realized that what once looked like a dream might actually have been a nightmare wearing a pretty outfit.

Guess what? You're allowed to change your mind.

You don't have to keep chasing something simply because you once wanted it. You don't have to stay in a situation because you invested years in it. And you certainly don't have to keep explaining your decisions until everybody else approves.

You are not legally obligated to remain the person you were five years ago.

If you discover that something no longer fits your life, you can let it go.

If you realize you're tired of always being the understanding one, you can stop volunteering for the position. If you've spent years accepting less than you deserve, you can raise your standards. If you've been making everybody else's happiness your responsibility, you can finally put your own name on the list.

And if someone becomes furious because you've stopped allowing them to benefit from your lack of boundaries, well, that's certainly an interesting reaction.

It might tell you something.

Growth sometimes means releasing the very thing you once begged life to give you.

That doesn't mean your past self was stupid. It means you learned something your past self didn't know.

Congratulations. Your brain has finally installed an update.

Let's hope this one comes with fewer bugs.

Self-Esteem: Stop Treating Yourself Like the Problem in Every Story

You don't build confidence by sitting around waiting for a magical moment when you suddenly love every single thing about yourself.

You build it by showing yourself that you can be trusted.

Keep a promise to yourself. Finish something you've been putting off. Stand up for yourself when it matters. Admit when you're wrong and make an effort to do better.

Small actions count.

You don't have to climb Mount Everest to prove you're capable. Sometimes getting through a difficult conversation without apologizing for things that weren't your fault is quite an achievement.

So is finally making a decision without consulting twelve people, three online strangers, and the imaginary jury living inside your head.

And please, stop comparing your entire life to somebody else's highlight reel.

You don't know what happens when the cameras are off. That person with the perfect house, perfect relationship, perfect career, and suspiciously perfect photographs might be having a spectacularly awful Tuesday.

Everybody has problems. Some people simply have better lighting.

Give Yourself Credit When You Deserve It

When someone compliments you, accept it.

You don't have to immediately explain why they're wrong.

If someone says you look nice, you can say thank you without listing every physical imperfection you've ever discovered. If someone appreciates your work, you don't have to convince them it was nothing.

You did something well. Let yourself enjoy that.

And when you make progress, acknowledge it. You don't need to wait until you've accomplished everything imaginable before you permit yourself to feel proud.

If you handled a difficult situation better than you would have last year, that's progress. If you walked away from something unhealthy, that's progress. If you recognized an old pattern and made a different choice, that's progress, too.

Stop moving the finish line every time you get close to it.

You deserve to recognize how far you've come, even when there's still work to do.

Do Something That Makes You Respect Yourself

Here's a useful little secret: confidence grows when your actions begin to match the person you want to be.

If you want to be dependable, keep your word. If you want to be healthier emotionally, stop reopening wounds just because the person who caused them has suddenly remembered your phone number.

If you want peace, stop inviting chaos into your life and then wondering why everything feels chaotic.

I know. Some of this sounds obvious.

But apparently, we still need instructions not to put electrical appliances in the bathtub, so let's not assume common sense is universally distributed.

Pay attention to your habits. Notice the people you surround yourself with. Consider whether your choices are helping you move forward or keeping you stuck in the same miserable revolving door.

You don't need to get everything right. You just need to become more honest about what isn't working.

And when you mess up? Take responsibility, learn from it, and keep moving.

Beating yourself up for six months over one bad decision won't magically transform it into a good one.

It will, however, waste six months you could have spent doing something useful.

Don't Let the World Make You Forget How to Be Human

There is something wonderful about people who make ordinary moments a little better.

The person who makes a cashier smile. The customer who treats a server with respect. The stranger who notices someone sitting alone and makes them feel included. The friend who checks in because they genuinely care, not because they need something.

Those things matter.

We live in a world where people can become so focused on being impressive that they forget the importance of simply being decent.

You don't have to be famous, wealthy, powerful, or the most interesting person in every room to make a difference.

Sometimes you just need to be the person who doesn't make somebody else's difficult day worse.

A little kindness can mean more than you realize. You might never know what someone is struggling with, what they've lost, or how close they are to giving up on the idea that people can be good.

You don't have to rescue everybody. You aren't responsible for carrying the entire world on your shoulders.

Just remember that your words and actions leave an impression.

Try to leave people feeling a little better about humanity, rather than needing three days to recover from talking to you.

It's a surprisingly achievable goal.

And About Men, Women, and Who Gets to Be Happy

Let's address something else while we're discussing personal growth.

When women gain independence, establish boundaries, pursue careers, make their own decisions, and refuse to accept mistreatment, some people act as though civilization itself is about to collapse.

Apparently, a woman knowing her worth is a national emergency.

Here's the thing: nobody's happiness should depend on another person having fewer rights, less freedom, or less power.

Healthy relationships aren't built on one person being in charge while the other is expected to remain agreeable, grateful, and conveniently silent.

They are built on mutual respect, honesty, affection, friendship, and the understanding that neither person owns the other.

Men deserve happiness. Women deserve happiness. Everybody deserves the opportunity to build a life without having to shrink themselves to keep somebody else comfortable.

A relationship should add to your life, not require you to surrender your identity as the admission fee.

And if your happiness depends on another adult having fewer choices than you do, perhaps the problem isn't their independence.

Perhaps it's time to examine your expectations.

Self-reflection is good for everybody. Nobody gets a lifetime exemption just because they happen to be male, female, or exceptionally confident in their own opinions.

Sometimes, Someone Reminds You What's Possible

Every now and then, you meet someone who awakens something in you.

They make you laugh when you've forgotten how. They encourage you when you've lost confidence. They see possibilities in you that you stopped seeing in yourself.

Sometimes it's a friend. Sometimes it's a partner. Sometimes it's somebody who enters your life unexpectedly and reminds you that there are still good people in the world.

Those connections can be powerful.

But remember something important: other people can inspire your fire, but they shouldn't be the only reason it stays lit.

Your ability to love, grow, laugh, and begin again belongs to you.

Don't hand somebody else complete control over your happiness and then act surprised when they start rearranging the furniture.

Appreciate the people who bring good things into your life. Love them. Learn from them. Let them encourage you.

But keep building a relationship with yourself, too.

Because you deserve to recognize your own worth, even on the days when nobody else is standing around holding up a banner announcing it.

A Few Things Worth Remembering

• You can be kind without being a pushover.

• You can forgive someone without giving them another chance to hurt you.

• You can change your mind without writing a ten-page explanation.

• You can have a difficult day without deciding your entire life is a disaster.

• You can love someone without abandoning yourself.

• You can admit you're wrong without believing you're worthless.

• You can want more from life without being ungrateful for what you already have.

• You can start again without being ashamed that you needed a fresh start.

And perhaps most importantly, you can be a work in progress without treating yourself like a defective product somebody forgot to return.

Nobody has everything figured out. Some people are simply better at looking confident while making it up as they go.

We're all learning, adjusting, making mistakes, and occasionally wondering how we managed to become responsible for our own lives when nobody ever gave us a proper orientation.

The goal isn't to become perfect.

The goal is to become a little wiser, a little kinder, a little stronger, and a little less willing to participate in our own misery.

Laugh when you can. Learn when you mess up. Set boundaries when necessary. Appreciate the people who treat you well. Stop chasing people who make you question your worth.

And remember that you don't have to turn every difficult experience into a beautiful life lesson immediately.

Sometimes you can simply say, "Well, that was a complete disaster," learn what you can, and move the hell along.

Final Thought

Life is too unpredictable to spend it constantly trying to prove yourself to people who have already decided not to understand you.

Be kind, but protect your peace. Love deeply, but keep your self-respect. Work on yourself, but don't forget to enjoy being alive while you're doing it.

You are allowed to grow beyond your old fears, your old habits, your old expectations, and even the dreams you once thought you couldn't live without.

You don't need everyone's approval to build a life that feels right to you.

And if you happen to trip over your own feet while making all these wonderful improvements, just get back up.

You were walking toward a better future, not auditioning for the Olympics.

Keep growing. Keep laughing. Keep your standards. And for the love of all things sensible, stop handing the steering wheel of your life to people who can't even find their own damn keys.

Love yourself enough to keep going, and care about others enough to make the journey a little kinder for everybody along the way.

Because a better life isn't built by becoming somebody else.

It's built by finally giving yourself permission to become more fully who you are.

October 23, 2026

20 Things to Put on Your Bucket List, Because Apparently, Some People Enjoy Terrifying Themselves for Fun…

Let’s talk about bucket lists. You know, those lists of things people supposedly need to do before they kick the bucket. Because apparently, simply living your life, paying your bills, dealing with other people’s nonsense, and trying not to lose your damn mind isn’t enough. Now we have to jump out of airplanes, swim with things that have rows of teeth, and climb mountains just to prove we can.

Here are 20 things YOU might want to put on YOUR bucket list. Notice I said YOURS, not mine. Some of these sound wonderful, some sound questionable, and a few sound like excellent ways to end up in an emergency room explaining to a doctor that, yes, you really did pay money to do something that stupid.

Let's go!

1. Skydiving

What do they say about skydiving? It's good to the last drop? Yeah, I'm gonna pass.

I'm not thrilled with heights. I'm not thrilled with planes. Falling, I will admit, can be quite fun. Landing, however, absolutely sucks.

Why would I willingly jump out of a perfectly good airplane? If the plane is having problems, that's one thing. But deliberately opening the door and throwing myself out? Absolutely not. I have enough problems without adding gravity to my list of enemies.

Some people call it exhilarating. I call it paying someone to scare the living hell out of me.

2. Drive a Ferrari

Even if I weren't tall and fat, I don't think I'd fit comfortably into one of those little speed demons. Sports cars look like roller skates to me. I'd need two of them, one for each foot.

I never understood the appeal. I know some people have a need for speed, but I'd rather drive something that doesn't look like it was designed for a hamster with a wealthy owner.

When I was younger, my favorite car was a VW Rabbit. Why? I have absolutely no idea. I just thought it was adorable, and I knew approximately as much about cars as a goldfish knows about baking cupcakes.

Now I'd love a Jeep. Unfortunately, with today's gas prices, I don't think I could afford to keep a butane lighter filled, let alone a Jeep!. I realize butane and gasoline aren't the same thing, but they're both flammable, so they’re pretty much the same thing…right?

Give me a vehicle I can afford to drive without selling a kidney. That's my idea of luxury. Also, I only have 1 kidney so selling it probably is not my best idea.

3. Climb a Mountain

Why would anyone do this on purpose?

Now, if we're talking about walking along beautiful trails, enjoying wildflowers, looking at wildlife, and appreciating nature, sign me up. I've done that, and I love it.

But climbing a rock face while dangling over a drop that could turn my skeleton into modern art? No, thank you.

I don't need to conquer a mountain. I'm perfectly happy letting the mountain sit there, minding its own business, while I remain safely on the ground.

Besides, if I want to struggle to get somewhere, I can just try bouncing on a pogo stick to go pretty much…anywhere..

4. Go on a Safari

Now THIS sounds amazing!

I'd love to see wild animals in their natural habitat, hear their sounds, and watch a mama lion with her adorable cubs.

From a safe distance, naturally. I'm not looking to become a Launchable for wildlife.

I'd love to see elephants, giraffes, zebras, and all the other incredible animals. There's something wonderful about seeing creatures living freely in the world they're meant to inhabit.

I just don't need to witness the circle of life playing out directly in front of me while I'm trying to enjoy the scenery.

Nature is beautiful. Nature is fascinating. Nature also has absolutely no respect for your personal space when you're standing between a hungry predator and its dinner.

5. Go into Space

I'm not fond of heights or planes, so why would I want to strap myself into a rocket and leave the planet?

Basically, space is darkness, stars, and an awful lot of nothing. We can see stars from Earth without paying millions of dollars to experience them from a tin can hurtling through the universe.

Yes, I understand there's more to space than that. It's scientifically fascinating, and I admire the people who explore it.

But personally? I'd rather watch the documentary.

You can keep your zero gravity. There’s not enough Dramamine for me to attempt to experience this.

6. Go on a Camel Ride

I've actually done this! I've ridden a camel AND an elephant.

I have no idea when or why. I was a kid, my family was on some sort of vacation, and apparently riding enormous animals was on the itinerary.

The rides were okay, as far as I remember. The SMELL, however, was unforgettable.

These incidents happened approximately 35 years ago, and I can STILL remember how badly those animals stank.

That's impressive. I can't remember what I went into a room for five minutes ago, but apparently my brain has preserved the camel's personal hygiene record for decades.

Thank you, memory. Really useful stuff.

7. Take a Hot Air Balloon Ride