Molly Roxx's Blog

August 28, 2026

TECHNOLOGY: 1 — MOLLY: ABSOLUTELY SCREWED

When your laptop dies, your phone dies, your email disappears, and apparently proving you are actually you requires a scavenger hunt…

Well, hello there, baby dolls.

It is time to blog.

Technically, it was time to blog a couple of days ago.

But apparently technology had other plans.

And by “other plans,” I mean destroying my entire week and casually watching me suffer from the sidelines.

THE LAPTOP HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

I haven't blogged in a couple of days because, completely out of the blue, my laptop just...

DIED.

No warning.

No blue screen.

No little pop-up saying:

“Hey Molly, something terrible is about to happen. Perhaps save your shit?”

Nope.

Just black.

Nothing.

Nada.

Wouldn't turn on for anything.

It basically looked at me, decided it had contributed enough to society, and entered the afterlife.

And because I apparently possess some kind of accidental disaster-prediction superpower, I had purchased a new laptop a while back as a backup.

Because when you work on a computer nonstop, you always need a backup laptop.

That is just common sense.

Unfortunately, backup laptops are becoming increasingly difficult to actually use because apparently owning a device isn't enough anymore.

You must now prove your identity to the device, to the company, to the security system, to the moon, and probably to some random guy named Kevin in IT.

“Apparently being yourself is no longer sufficient proof that you are, in fact, yourself.”

AND THEN MY PHONE DIED

Because obviously the laptop wasn't enough.

My phone also decided to kill itself.

Because apparently my electronics had formed a support group and unanimously voted me off the island.

Now, I needed my phone to receive codes so I could set up the new laptop.

I also needed my phone to take pictures of QR codes.

You know.

Those magical little squares that apparently contain the secrets of the universe.

Except my old phone didn't do the QR-code thing properly.

So, there I was.

Brand-new laptop.

Dead old laptop.

Dead phone.

Locked accounts.

Missing emails.

And a growing suspicion that technology was actively fucking with me.

WELCOME TO THE DIGITAL MAZE

Then I lost my Chrome account.

And my emails.

And a bunch of my work.

And because apparently the universe had decided I wasn't suffering quite enough yet, I had to prove ownership of my website account.

That was particularly entertaining when I couldn't provide the Gmail address they recognized or the phone number they had on file.

Nothing says “Welcome to modern technology” quite like being asked to prove you own something while every possible method of proving you own it is conveniently trapped inside the thing you can no longer access.

I WAS ME.

I promise.

I know this because I was sitting there screaming at the computer.

Apparently, screaming at the computer isn't an accepted form of identity verification.

Who knew?

CLUSTERFUCK! THAT'S THE TECHNICAL TERM.

The last week has basically been one giant technological clusterfuck.

You thought I was behind in my work before?

GUESS HOW BEHIND I AM NOW!?!

Go ahead.

Guess.

I'll wait.

Actually, don't.

It will just make me cry.

And because I apparently wasn't busy enough trying to resurrect my digital life from the dead, I also decided it would be an excellent time to reformat my blog.

Because people told me it would look better with two columns instead of one.

And they were probably right.

But do you know what happens when you decide to completely reformat something you've already spent a ridiculous amount of time building?

You lose 36 hours of your life.

Thirty-six.

Hours.

Gone.

Into the abyss.

And now one column is longer than the other.

So, I'm adding picture ads to try to make the columns even out so the blogs line up with their dates and people don't get confused about which post they're reading.

And honestly?

Just typing that sentence confused me.

So, if you visit my blog and find yourself wandering around wondering where the hell you are in the timeline...

Please understand that I am right there with you.

AND THEN SOCIAL MEDIA DECIDED TO JOIN THE FUN

I was finally starting to get people sharing my blog links on social media.

And not just Aunt Linda and three people who accidentally clicked the button.

I'm talking about people with pretty damn large followings.

People were sharing my stuff.

People were finding my blog.

Things were actually starting to move.

And then...

BOOM.

Dead laptop.

Dead phone.

Lost Gmail.

Lost accounts.

Lost followers.

Lost sharers.

Start over.

Again.

“My entire life appears to be one long audition for the role of Person Who Has To Start Over.”

At this point, if starting over were an Olympic sport, I'd have enough gold medals to make Mr. T look under-accessorized. I met him. Went to school with his daughters. That’s a story for another time though…

WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS, BABY DOLL!

When it rains, it pours!

And this particular rainstorm appears to have been personally offended by my existence.

So now I'm restarting social media accounts.

Rebuilding my email situation.

Rebuilding my workflow.

Catching up on my work.

Fixing my blog layout.

Trying to make two columns behave like civilized adults.

And generally attempting to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.

Except Humpty Dumpty had the courtesy of only being an egg.

I have:

Passwords.

Accounts.

Websites.

Emails.

Social media.

Files.

QR codes.

Two-factor authentication.

And approximately seventeen different companies demanding that I prove I'm the same person I was five minutes ago.

I'M DONE PLAYING THE QR CODE GAME

Technology may get us farther ahead.

But sometimes it also jerks us spectacularly backward.

And I've officially had enough.

I'm not going out and buying another phone I cannot afford just so I can take a picture of a QR code I don't understand in order to rescue a FREE EMAIL ACCOUNT.

No.

I'm done.

From now on, I'm paying for my email accounts.

They're about ten bucks a year through my web builder.

Ten dollars.

For email.

And you know what?

I'M FINE WITH THAT.

Because at least when something goes wrong, I can actually get help without needing a phone I don't have, an email account I can't access, and a QR code that looks like someone dropped a black spaghetti monster onto a tiny square.

Google is always getting sued anyway, and honestly, I don't particularly feel like doing business with companies that seem perfectly comfortable making life harder for the little guy.

That's not what I'm about.

I believe small businesses, independent creators, writers, artists, bloggers, and regular people trying to build something deserve better than being shoved into a maze of automated systems and then told to figure it out.

SO HERE WE ARE

The last week has been business hell.

But I'm still here.

Still writing.

Still rebuilding.

Still swearing at technology.

Still trying to get caught up.

And apparently still stupid enough to believe that tomorrow might be easier.

Which, let's be honest, is probably exactly when the toaster will connect to Wi-Fi and demand two-factor authentication.

At this point, I wouldn't even be surprised.

So that's my week.

How about you?

What's been going on in your world?

Tell me I'm not the only one being personally victimized by technology lately.

Because misery loves company...

…and apparently so does blogging.

Until next time, baby dolls...

Keep writing. Keep creating. Keep laughing.

And for the love of everything holy, BACK UP YOUR DAMN COMPUTER and not with a gmail like I did. I sent all my backups to my gmail which are all gone now.

Because technology doesn't care about your deadlines.

It doesn't care about your work.

It doesn't care that you were finally getting somewhere.

And it sure as hell doesn't care that you haven't saved your latest masterpiece.

It will simply stare into your soul...

and turn itself off.

Also,

If you've ever lost a computer, phone, password, account, file, email, or approximately three years of your life because of technology...

Congratulations.

You're one of us.

Welcome to the club!

We don't have a membership card.

It was stored on the phone that died.

August 29, 2026

Blog # 2 For The Day

SO, YOU WANNA KNOW MOLLY ROXX?

Fine. But I’m warning you now… I’m a lot.

Apparently, people are curious about me.

Who is Molly Roxx? What does she do? Where did she come from? Why does she have so many tattoos? Why does she write books? Why does she model? And what the hell is going on with that hair?

Okay, maybe nobody actually asked that last one.

But they should.

So, since people keep wanting to know more about the woman behind the books, magazines, modeling, websites, sarcasm, blog, questionable decisions, and general refusal to behave like a normal adult…

Here goes.

Welcome to the unofficial “Get to Know Molly Roxx Without Having to Stalk Me on the Internet” edition.

You're welcome.

FIRST THINGS FIRST: MOLLY ROXX IS ACTUALLY MOLLY.

Here is a fun little fact that seems to confuse people:

Molly Roxx is my stage name for modeling and my pen name for writing.

But Molly is actually my birth name.

So technically, I didn't invent Molly.

I just added Roxx because apparently one Molly wasn't dramatic enough.

And honestly?

It fits.

I've been active in the plus-size modeling and media world since 2005, which means I've been doing this long enough to have witnessed several fashion trends come and go that should have been arrested on sight.

Low-rise jeans, I'm looking at you.

You know what you did.

WHO THE HELL IS MOLLY ROXX?

I'm a plus-size model, creative director, publisher, author, artist, troublemaker, professional rule-bender, and occasional collector of tattoos.

Okay, “collector” makes it sound organized.

It isn't.

I have too many tattoos to count.

At this point, my body is basically a scrapbook with commitment issues.

My work has included editorial, promotional, and artistic modeling, along with creative direction, magazine publishing, digital publishing, writing, photography, art, and generally finding ways to make people look at things they were previously told they weren't supposed to look at.

Especially bodies.

Especially plus-size bodies.

Especially bodies that don't apologize for existing.

THE PLUS-SIZE MODELING THING

I believe diverse bodies deserve to be seen, represented, celebrated, and respected.

Not hidden.

Not shoved into the corner.

Not photographed only from the neck up.

And definitely not treated like some kind of rare woodland creature because someone is wearing a size nobody considers “sample.”

Bodies come in different shapes.

Different sizes.

Different colors.

Different ages.

Different everything.

And here's the shocking part:

They're all still bodies.

Revolutionary, I know.

My work has always been about breaking rules and creating more inclusive spaces where people can actually see themselves represented.

Because representation matters.

And frankly, the fashion industry has spent enough decades acting like women magically stop existing after a certain dress size.

News flash, fashion people:

We did not disappear.

We're right here.

And some of us have really good shoes.

THEN THERE'S MRU PUBLISHING

I'm the creative director and owner of MRU Publishing, a media company focused on empowerment, representation, fashion, art, and storytelling.

I've published multiple titles, including Women Power Magazine and Miss Pin-up Magazine, along with other creative projects.

And yes, I actually enjoy doing this.

Which may be proof that something is slightly wrong with me.

Because publishing isn't exactly the hobby of people who enjoy relaxing.

Publishing is more like:

“Would you like to spend the next several hours fighting with formatting, websites, photographs, fonts, deadlines, technology, and your own sanity?”

And I'm like:

“Absolutely!”

Apparently, I have hobbies that fight back.

You can visit MRU Publishing here:

www.mrupublishing.com

AND THEN I STARTED WRITING BOOKS

Because apparently modeling, publishing, creative direction, magazines, websites, and life weren't enough.

So naturally…

I became an author.

I've written poetry and five novels, including books such as:

Bittersweet

It Is What It Is

Gratitude

…and a few other great reads that I'm not going to pretend aren't sitting around waiting for you to discover them.

My writing tends to be honest, emotional, rebellious, humorous, and deeply human.

Basically, I write the way I live:

without a filter and occasionally with questionable punctuation.

My stories aren't designed to make everything look perfect.

Perfect is boring.

Real is messy.

Real people screw up.

Real people fall in love.

Real people get their hearts broken.

Real people laugh at inappropriate moments.

Real people survive things they never thought they could survive.

And sometimes real people say:

“Well, that was a spectacularly bad idea.”

Then do it again.

You can find my books here:

www.MollyRoxxBooks.com

THE MOLLY ROXX BOOKSTORE

Through Molly Roxx's Bookstore, I offer a collection of independent and self-published works, including poetry, women's empowerment, fiction, and personal stories.

These aren't cookie-cutter books produced because somebody in a boardroom decided a certain demographic was currently marketable.

They're independent.

They're personal.

They're original.

And many of them were created outside traditional publishing.

Which means they're allowed to be a little weird.

I like weird.

Traditional publishing has its place.

But there is something wonderfully rebellious about creating something yourself and putting it out into the world anyway.

My books are copyrighted and printed through Lulu and MagCloud, while being published through MRU Publishing.

In other words:

Yes, I really did all this myself.

Because apparently, I don't know how to choose an easy life.

THE BASIC MOLLY STATISTICS

Since people love statistics for some reason, here are mine.

Birthdate: March 12, 1975

Zodiac sign: Pisces

Yes, Pisces.

Yes, I have feelings.

No, I'm not going to apologize for them.

Birthplace: New Jersey

Height: 5'11"

Eyes: Brown/green/hazel

Or, as I like to call them:

“Whatever color they're feeling today.”

Glasses: Yes.

For reading and distance.

Because apparently my eyeballs decided they wanted to retire early.

Tattoos: Too many to count.

Obviously.

Hobbies: All forms of art.

And that is probably the shortest answer to the question.

I love art in all its forms.

Creating it.

Looking at it.

Writing it.

Photographing it.

Designing it.

Publishing it.

Living around it.

If it involves creativity, chances are pretty good I'm interested.

SO, WHAT AM I REALLY ALL ABOUT?

That's probably the harder question.

Because a list of jobs doesn't really tell you who somebody is.

You can say:

Model.

Author.

Publisher.

Creative director.

Artist.

And you've technically described me.

But you haven't really met me.

I'm someone who believes you should be allowed to be exactly who you are without constantly asking permission from people who wouldn't know what to do with your life if you handed them the instruction manual.

I'm a believer in individuality.

In creativity.

In second chances.

In telling the truth.

In laughing when things get ridiculous.

And in occasionally looking at a complete disaster and saying:

“Well… at least it'll make a good story.”

I've never been particularly interested in fitting neatly into somebody else's box.

Probably because I was never given the correct instructions for assembling the box in the first place.

I LIKE REAL PEOPLE

I don't expect perfection from other people.

Hell, I don't even expect it from myself.

I like people who are genuine.

People who laugh too loudly.

People who have weird hobbies.

People who have made mistakes.

People who have survived heartbreak.

People who have started over.

People who have been told they're “too much.”

Because I've always thought “too much” was a strange criticism.

Too loud?

Maybe.

Too opinionated?

Absolutely possible.

Too sarcastic?

Almost certainly.

Too stubborn?

Let's not get carried away.

But too much?

Nah.

Maybe the room was just too small.

AND THAT'S MOLLY

So if you've ever wondered who the hell is behind Molly Roxx…

Now you know a little more.

She's a woman from New Jersey who grew up, got tall, got tattooed, picked up a camera, started modeling, started creating, started publishing, started writing, and apparently never learned the important life lesson of “just sit down and relax.”

She's a model.

A creative director.

A publisher.

A blogger.

An author.

An artist.

A dreamer.

A rule-breaker.

A storyteller.

A woman who believes everybody deserves to be seen.

And apparently…

a person with enough projects to keep herself busy until approximately the year 2479.

But that's okay.

I'd rather have too many ideas than none at all.

I'd rather create something imperfect than spend my life waiting for perfect.

I'd rather be authentic than just acceptable.

And I'd rather be remembered as someone who made people feel like they belonged than someone who spent her life trying to blend into the wallpaper.

So…

Hi. I'm Molly.

Molly Roxx.

And yes…

I really am this much trouble.

Thanks for stopping by.

Now that you know a little about me…

go make something.

And if you can't make something today, at least make some trouble.

Preferably the harmless kind.

I've got a reputation to maintain.

Want to know even MORE about Molly?

Oh, I'm sure you do.

Apparently, one blog wasn't enough.

There are stories behind the tattoos.

Stories behind the books.

Stories behind the modeling.

Stories behind the magazines.

And, unfortunately for everyone involved, there are stories behind some of my life choices.

Those may require coffee.

Possibly wine.

Definitely snacks.

Stay tuned.

There is plenty more Molly where this came from.

Find my books:

www.MollyRoxxBooks.com

Find MRU Publishing:

www.mrupublishing.com

August 30, 2026

Things I Wonder About… and Other Evidence That My Brain Needs Adult Supervision

There are moments when I wonder if I am a deep thinker.

Then I remember that five minutes ago I was wondering why we have driveways when we park on them and parkways when we drive on them.

So… probably not.

But my brain has questions.

Important questions.

Questions that science has apparently decided to ignore because it has more important things to do, like figuring out whether there is water on Mars while I’m over here trying to determine why putting a P in front of the word “ocean” doesn’t give you the word “potion.”

Seriously.

Ocean.

Add P.

Pocean.

Not potion.

What kind of linguistic betrayal is that?

And who decided the letter combinations should work that way? I would like to speak to whoever is in charge of the English language because frankly, there are some design flaws.

English is basically the only language where you can put two letters together, pronounce them completely differently, and then expect everybody to just go along with it.

“Why is this word pronounced that way?”

“Because English.”

“Oh. Okay.”

No.

Not okay.

 

HERE’S ANOTHER ONE: IF EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE…

If everything is possible, then is it possible for something to be impossible?

Because if something is impossible, then apparently not everything is possible.

And if everything is possible, then something being impossible should technically be… possible.

My brain hurts.

Whoever came up with the phrase “Anything is possible” was either a brilliant philosopher or a flat-out liar with inspirational wall art.

Because I’m pretty sure there are some things that are absolutely impossible.

For example:

I am never going to willingly eat liver and onions.

I don't care how much butter you put on it.

I don't care if Gordon Ramsay personally prepares it while angels sing.

NO.

The liver is an organ.

An organ.

You know what the liver does inside an animal?

And then someone looked at that and thought:

“Yep. Dinner.”

EW.

I like onions, though.

Onions did nothing wrong.

 

CAN YOU SUCCEED AT FAILING?

Here's another one.

If you fail on purpose, did you actually fail?

Or did you succeed at failing?

And if you succeed at failing, does that mean you technically succeeded?

And if you succeeded, then you didn't fail.

Which means you failed at failing.

At this point, I would like everyone to stop talking and let me stare at the ceiling.

This is why I can't be trusted with philosophical questions.

 

WHY DON'T WE KNOW THE SPEED OF DARK?

We know the speed of light.

But what about darkness?

Where's the research?

Where's the documentary?

Where's the little guy in a lab coat standing in front of a giant chalkboard saying:

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have finally determined how fast dark travels.”

And if darkness has a speed, is it slower than light?

Does darkness chase light?

Does light run away from darkness?

Is darkness just what happens when light calls in sick?

Maybe darkness doesn't have a speed because darkness isn't actually going anywhere.

Maybe it's just light leaving the room and slamming the door behind it.

Honestly, that sounds plausible.

 

IF YOU COULD INSTANTLY BECOME AN EXPERT AT ONE THING…

What would you choose?

I would become a world-class track superstar.

Yes.

Me.

Running.

I know.

Hilarious!

I have asthma and osteoarthritis, and running has never exactly been my body's favorite recreational activity.

My body sees running and basically says:

“Absolutely not. We did not discuss this with management.”

But if I could instantly become a track superstar, I'm assuming all of that would magically disappear because apparently we're allowed to make up rules in this hypothetical situation.

So, I'd become ridiculously fast.

I'd win races.

I'd have medals.

I'd dramatically cross finish lines.

People would scream my name.

And I'd never have to pay for gas again because I could just run everywhere.

“Hey Molly, you coming over?”

“Yep.”

“It's 40 miles away.”

“Give me twenty minutes.”

ZOOM.

Honestly, I'd be unbearable.

WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE?

Don't ask me to pick just one.

That's cruel.

I have five.

Erin Brockovich.

A Lot Like Love.

Three to Tango.

Ghostbusters.

Gone in 60 Seconds.

Apparently, my movie taste is what happens when a romantic comedy, a courtroom drama, a paranormal comedy, and a car theft ring have a baby.

Books?

Besides the ridiculous pile of things I've written myself, I love:

The Client, A Dangerous Woman, Go Ask Alice, Crank, Glass, and The Catcher in the Rye.

Yes, I know that's a strange combination.

No, I will not explain myself.

My brain contains multitudes.

Mostly weird ones.

 

WHAT IS THE MOST INTERESTING JOB I'VE EVER HAD?

I've had a lot of jobs.

I've worked through temp agencies and day-labor places.

I've dug graves.

Shoveled horse crap.

Roofed.

Answered phones.

Transcribed.

Taught.

And somehow, after all that, the most interesting job I've ever had is the one I created for myself.

I blog.

I write books.

I publish magazines.

I model.

I photograph.

I create art.

I design websites.

I do layouts.

I create advertising campaigns.

I write.

I market.

I publish.

I meet interesting people.

And somewhere along the way, all of that became Molly Roxx Universe.

I originally wanted to model. I had modeled as a child, and as I got older and my body changed, those modeling opportunities became harder to find.

So instead of sitting around waiting for someone else to decide I was allowed to be a model, I basically said:

“Fine. I'll build my own damn runway.”

I created magazines that welcomed models of different sizes and ages.

And then one thing led to another.

Then another.

Then another.

And suddenly I had created an entire universe.

Molly Roxx Universe became MRU Publishing.

THE BEST ADVICE I'VE EVER RECEIVED

Blood is not thicker than water.

And sometimes loving yourself means walking away from people who happen to share your last name.

After my dad died, I learned that lesson the hard way.

I had spent four years taking care of him.

I spoon-fed him.

Took him to appointments.

Made sure he ate.

Made sure he had clean clothes.

Paid bills.

Made sure he took his meds and did his physical therapy.

Helped the man bathe.

Kept him company.

Made sure he didn't self-medicate with alcohol.

Helped arrange a part-time nurse.

And did a whole lot of other things nobody saw.

After he died, I didn't exactly receive a standing ovation.

Instead, I got gossiped about.

So eventually I made a decision.

Peace was more important than proximity.

And when people started wondering why I got a new phone number and address without telling them what they were…

Well.

I have a very simple answer.

NO.

That's it.

That's the answer.

No footnotes.

No appendix.

No PowerPoint presentation.

Just…

NO.

And honestly?

Sometimes “no” is a complete sentence.

 

SO HERE'S MY ADVICE

Let go of what keeps dragging you backward.

Forgive yourself for the things you didn't know way back when.

Stop waiting until you feel ready.

Sometimes you become ready by beginning.

Choose peace over proving a point.

Choose progress over perfection.

Choose yourself.

And if somebody doesn't like the new version of you?

That's okay.

They weren't required to purchase a membership.

 

FIRST CONCERT?

New Kids on the Block, baby!

I was about 13 or 14.

They were my first boy band experience.

And I was absolutely in love!

Looking back, I'm pretty sure half of my teenage personality was just:

“OMG HE LOOKED AT THE CAMERA.”

Meanwhile, somewhere in the world, a grown adult was getting paid to choreograph five teenage boys walking down a staircase in matching clothes.

And somehow we all thought this was completely normal.

 

CRAZY ROOMMATE STORIES?

Oh, I have them.

Do I intend to publish them here?

Absolutely the hell not.

Read my books.

That's where the evidence is buried.

Moving on.

 

WHAT DISNEY CHARACTER SCARED ME AS A KID?

Was E.T. Disney?

I don't even know.

But that little alien scared the absolute crap out of me.

I was traumatized for weeks.

People were like:

“Aw, he's so cute!”

Cute?

CUTE?!

That thing looked like a dehydrated garden gnome that had just crawled out of a swamp.

No.

I wasn't emotionally prepared for E.T. I was only 7 for hecks sake!

E.T. wasn't prepared for my childhood either.

We both survived.

Barely.

 

FIRST MUSIC ALBUM?

Tina Turner's Private Dancer on cassette.

At least I think it was.

It could have been Tiffany.

Or Cyndi Lauper.

But I'm pretty sure Tina was first, with Tiffany and Cyndi somewhere behind her.

My mom bought it for me at Venture.

VENTURE.

Remember Venture?

I do.

And I miss it.

My mom bought my brother a Huey Lewis and the News cassette.

I have absolutely no idea why that particular memory is still occupying valuable real estate in my brain.

 

But apparently it is.

My brain has forgotten important things.

It has forgotten passwords.

It has forgotten where I put my glasses while they were literally on my face.

But it remembers that my brother had a Huey Lewis cassette from Venture.

Priorities.

 

AND THAT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IS WHAT GOES ON INSIDE MY HEAD.

A little philosophy.

A little nostalgia.

A little sarcasm.

A little trauma.

A little Tina Turner.

A little E.T. hatred.

A little English-language confusion.

A whole lot of random questions nobody asked for.

And approximately seventeen unfinished thoughts fighting for parking spaces.

I don't know why my brain works this way.

I don't know if I want to know.

But I've finally accepted something:

Maybe I don't need to make perfect sense.

Maybe none of us do.

Maybe we're all just walking around pretending we understand what's happening while secretly Googling things like:

“Can a person legally adopt a squirrel?”

And honestly?

That's probably okay.

Life is weird.

People are weird.

Brains are weird and squishy from what I have heard…

And sometimes the best thing you can do is laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

Because if we're going to be confused anyway…

we might as well have fun being confused.

We’re all so good at it, so why not?

August 29, 2026

How to Stand on Your Own Two Feet

Even if Life Keeps Trying to Pull the Chair Out From Under You

There comes a point in life when you realize something absolutely horrifying:

Nobody is coming to save you.

Well… shit.

That sounds depressing, doesn’t it?

But actually, it can be incredibly freeing.

Because once you realize that you are responsible for yourself, your choices, your happiness, your boundaries, your healing, and occasionally remembering where you put your damn phone, you start to understand that standing on your own two feet isn’t about never needing anybody.

It’s about knowing you can survive when somebody doesn't show up.

And sometimes, standing on your own two feet means standing there while thinking, “Well, this is bullshit.”

And that's okay too.

Here are a few things I've learned about becoming your own person, surviving life's nonsense, and keeping your sanity somewhere within a 50-mile radius.

1. Never Expect Anything From Anyone

I know. I know.

That sounds cynical as hell.

But hear me out.

No one comes through 100% of the time. No one.

Not your friends.

Not your family.

Not your partner.

Not your coworkers.

And apparently not the delivery driver who says, “Your package was handed directly to a resident,” when you were literally sitting in the living room watching the door like a deranged meerkat.

People disappoint us.

Sometimes intentionally.

Sometimes accidentally.

Sometimes because they're selfish.

Sometimes because they're human.

And sometimes because they are just spectacularly bad at being people.

If you expect everyone to always behave exactly the way you would, you're going to spend an awful lot of time pissed off.

Instead, appreciate people when they show up.

Love them.

Trust them when they've earned it.

Accept help when it's offered.

But don't build your entire emotional foundation on the assumption that someone else will always be there holding the bricks.

Build your own damn house.

If someone helps you paint it, fantastic.

If they don't?

You still have a house.

And possibly paint in your hair.

2. Accept That Life Is Unfair

This one is a real peach.

Life is unfair.

There.

I said it.

You can now stop waiting for the universe to call a meeting and apologize.

Bad things happen to good people.

Good things happen to people who sometimes seem like they couldn't find their ass with both hands and a flashlight.

People get opportunities they don't deserve.

Other people work their asses off and still get kicked in the teeth.

Sometimes you do everything right and everything still goes spectacularly wrong.

That's life.

And if you spend your entire existence screaming, “BUT THAT'S NOT FAIR!” you're going to be exhausted before breakfast.

Accepting that life is unfair doesn't mean you approve of it.

It means you stop wasting all your energy arguing with reality.

You learn to say:

“Well, apparently this is the hand I've been dealt. Fine. Let's see what the hell I can do with it.”

Because the goal isn't to have a perfectly fair life.

The goal is to have a life you can still smile through.

Even if sometimes that smile is slightly unhinged.

3. Don't Beg for Love or Attention

Please.

For the love of all things holy, don't beg someone to love you.

Want love?

Absolutely.

Go find it.

Want attention?

Sure.

Put on your favorite outfit, fix your hair, walk into a room like you own the damn place.

Want to be noticed?

Then be noticeable.

But don't turn yourself into an emotional pretzel trying to convince somebody that you're worthy of their affection.

You shouldn't have to audition for a permanent role in someone's life.

Love should not feel like you're standing outside someone's house holding a cardboard sign that says:

“PLEASE PICK ME. I HAVE SNACKS.”

You are allowed to want people.

You are allowed to pursue people.

You are allowed to flirt, flirt harder, flirt terribly, embarrass yourself, recover, and try again.

Just don't abandon your dignity in the process.

Do it on your terms.

Want love?

Go get it.

Just don't crawl through broken glass for someone who wouldn't step over a puddle for you.

4. Keep Your Emotions Under Control

Now before everybody starts throwing tomatoes at me, let me clarify.

I'm not saying don't have emotions.

Honey, I have enough emotions for six people, three soap operas, and a particularly dramatic chihuahua.

I cry when I'm happy.

I cry when I'm sad.

I cry when I'm angry.

I cry when I'm frustrated.

I'm pretty sure I've cried because I couldn't find something that was literally sitting directly in front of me.

I'm an emotional person.

And that's okay.

Feel your feelings.

Just don't hand your feelings the keys to the car.

There is a difference between having an emotion and letting that emotion drive your behavior.

For example:

When my roommate gets mad, I sometimes wait until she leaves the room before I react.

This is called self-control.

It is also called:

“I'm going to shut the hell up until I can form a sentence that won't require an apology.”

And for the love of everything caffeinated:

Don't call your boss an asshole to their face.

Especially don't scream it.

Not at work.

Not in the conference room.

Not while pointing dramatically.

You can absolutely think it.

You can whisper it in your car.

You can scream it into your steering wheel on the way home.

You can tell your best friend over coffee.

But preferably not while your boss is standing three feet away holding your annual performance review.

Feel everything. React wisely.

There's a difference.

5. Learn to Stay Calm in Chaos

Ah yes.

The magical skill I would personally like to purchase at Walmart.

Remaining calm during chaos.

If anybody figures this one out, please teach me.

Because when everything starts going wrong, my brain immediately goes:

“OH GOOD! WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE.”

Calm people are fascinating.

You know the ones.

The house could be on fire and they're standing there calmly saying:

“Let's assess the situation.”

Meanwhile I'm somewhere in the corner yelling:

“WHY IS THERE SMOKE? WHO APPROVED THE SMOKE?!”

But learning to stay calm matters.

Chaos doesn't become less chaotic because you're panicking.

It just means now there are two problems:

The actual problem…

…and you freaking out about the problem.

Take a breath.

Slow down.

Figure out what actually needs to happen next.

One thing at a time.

You don't have to solve your entire life before lunch.

Sometimes the next step is simply:

Don't panic.

And if you can't manage that?

Fake it until you can.

6. Stop Taking Everything Personally

Okay.

This one and I have a complicated relationship.

Because apparently the universe decided this needed to be one of my personal character-building exercises.

I am still waiting for the character to be built.

I have struggled with taking things personally because of things I've experienced in my life.

I've had therapy.

I've worked on it.

I've learned things.

I've grown.

And sometimes I still take something personally that probably had absolutely nothing to do with me.

Someone is quiet?

They're mad at me.

Someone doesn't text back?

They're mad at me.

Someone looks annoyed?

Obviously I've ruined their entire existence.

Someone says, “Okay.”

Well.

Clearly.

THE WAR HAS BEGUN.

Learning not to personalize everything is hard.

Especially when your brain has learned to constantly look for danger.

But sometimes someone else's mood isn't about you.

Their silence isn't about you.

Their bad day isn't about you.

Their crappy attitude isn't necessarily about you.

Sometimes people are simply having a crappy day.

And sometimes they're just assholes.

Either way…

you don't have to adopt their emotional baggage.

That's their suitcase.

Let them carry it.

7. Walk Away From Toxic People

This one should be easy.

It isn't.

Especially if you're an empath.

Toxic people seem to have some sort of supernatural radar for people who want to help them.

It's almost like they can smell kindness.

“Hmmmm… I sense someone emotionally exhausted who will listen to all my problems for six hours.”

COME HERE, KIND HUMAN.

And there I am.

Being helpful.

Listening.

Trying to understand.

Trying to fix.

Trying to save.

Trying to love somebody through their own destruction.

And then eventually I look around and realize:

Holy crap. My life is on fire.

And that's when I finally leave.

Now, I'm in a wheelchair, so if you are too, wheel away from those toxic people with me.

We'll make a little parade.

A very emotionally healthy parade.

With snacks.

Because here's the truth:

You cannot save everyone.

You cannot love somebody into becoming healthy.

You cannot fix somebody who doesn't want to fix themselves.

And you cannot keep setting yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.

At some point you have to say:

“I love you. I care about you. But I cannot destroy myself trying to save you.”

Then wheel away.

Preferably before your nervous system files for divorce.

8. Focus on Solutions, Not Just Problems

Here's where my brain gets extremely technical.

People say:

“Don't focus on the problem. Focus on the solution.”

Okay.

But…

HOW THE HELL ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO FIND A SOLUTION WITHOUT LOOKING AT THE PROBLEM?!

Exactly.

You need to look at the problem.

Understand it.

Dissect it.

Figure out what went wrong.

Figure out what you can control.

Then stop staring at it like it's a dead squirrel in the road.

Solve the damn thing.

There's a difference between:

“Everything is terrible and my life is over.”

and:

“Okay. This sucks. What can I actually do about it?”

One keeps you stuck.

The other gets you moving.

So yes.

Look at the problem.

Then look at the solution.

Then make a plan.

Then execute the plan.

Then probably discover that your plan has a problem.

Then solve that problem.

Then discover another problem.

And eventually realize that adulthood is apparently just one giant game of Whack-a-Mole.

But keep going.

Progress isn't always pretty.

Sometimes progress looks like crawling through the mud while yelling obscenities.

It still counts.

9. Believe in Yourself. ALWAYS.

This one is not negotiable.

Believe in yourself.

Even when nobody else does.

Especially when nobody else does.

Because think about it.

You are the one person you are guaranteed to spend the rest of your life with.

You are the person who will be there for every birthday.

Every heartbreak.

Every stupid decision.

Every brilliant decision.

Every failure.

Every victory.

Every embarrassing moment.

Every “What the hell was I thinking?”

Every “Holy crap, I actually did it!”

You are stuck with you.

So, you might as well become your own best friend.

You are the one person you cannot afford to constantly betray.

Don't abandon yourself just because somebody else did.

Don't stop believing in yourself because somebody else couldn't see your worth.

Don't make someone else's opinion your permanent mirror.

You know what you've survived.

You know how hard you've fought.

You know the things you've overcome that nobody else even knows about.

And maybe you're not where you want to be yet.

So what?

Neither am I.

Neither is anybody.

We're all just wandering around pretending we know what we're doing while occasionally Googling things like:

“How long can chicken sit out?”

and

“Is it normal to be this tired?”

and

“How to get your life together immediately.”

Spoiler alert:

There is no immediate setting.

You build yourself one day at a time.

One decision at a time.

One boundary at a time.

One mistake at a time.

One ridiculous disaster at a time.

And every time life knocks you down, you learn something.

Maybe you get back up.

Maybe you crawl.

Maybe you wheel.

Maybe you sit there for a while and eat cookies because frankly, you've earned the damn cookies.

But eventually…

You move.

Because standing on your own two feet isn't about never falling.

It's about knowing that you can still move forward after you do.

So, believe in yourself.

Back yourself.

Protect your peace.

Walk away when you need to.

Love deeply.

Laugh loudly.

Cry when you need to.

Swear occasionally.

Eat the damn cake!

And when life looks at you and says,

“You can't do this.”

Look right back at it and say:

“Oh, really?”

Then do it anyway.

Because at the end of the day, the person you absolutely, positively cannot afford to give up on…

is you.

And if you happen to need a little help standing on your own two feet?

That's okay too.

Independence doesn't mean you never need anybody.

It means you know that even when someone isn't there to catch you…

you are still capable of catching yourself.

And honey…

that's a pretty damn powerful thing.

August 29, 2026 — 11:06 p.m.

BLOG #3 FOR THE DAY: Random Thoughts From a Brain That Apparently Has No Bedtime

Well, hello again.

Yes, it’s me.

AGAIN.

Apparently, I have decided that sleeping is for people who have their shit together, and since I clearly have several tabs open in my brain that refuse to close, here we are.

It’s 11:06 p.m., Blog #3 for the day, and my mind is currently doing that delightful little thing where it throws random thoughts at me like a toddler throwing spaghetti at a wall.

Some of it sticks.

Some of it makes absolutely no sense.

And some of it makes me wonder if I should be writing this or calling a professional.

So naturally, I’m writing this.

Because, priorities.

WHEN SOMEONE ACCUSES YOU OF SOMETHING YOU DIDN’T DO...

Have you ever had someone accuse you of something you absolutely did NOT do and thought:

“Wow. That’s an oddly specific accusation.”

Sometimes people accuse you of things because they're trying to distract you from something they're doing.

It’s the classic:

“LOOK OVER THERE!”

Meanwhile, behind you, they're stuffing the evidence into a garbage bag.

And honestly?

People can be terrible at hiding their own behavior.

They'll tell you a story, but somehow the story has more plot holes than a bad horror movie.

They'll suddenly become defensive.

They'll start explaining things you didn't even ask about.

They'll accuse you of things that weren't even on your radar.

And you're sitting there thinking:

“I wasn't suspicious until you gave me a 47-minute PowerPoint presentation explaining why I shouldn't be suspicious.”

Honey.

Nobody asked for the TED Talk.

People give themselves away.

Sometimes you don't have to investigate anything.

Just watch.

Observe.

Listen.

Pay attention to what people do instead of what they say.

Eventually, the truth usually gets tired of hiding and comes strolling out wearing a neon sign.

ONE DAY AT A TIME... BECAUSE THAT'S LITERALLY ALL WE'VE GOT

Here's something I've been thinking about:

One day at a time.

That's it.

Yesterday already happened.

You can't go back and edit it.

Wouldn't it be nice if life came with a little editing button?

UNDO.

“Oh, I'd like to undo that conversation from 2017.”

CLICK.

“Let's also delete that haircut.”

CLICK.

“And while we're at it, can we erase the time I trusted that person?”

CLICK.

Unfortunately, life does not work that way.

And tomorrow?

Tomorrow hasn't happened yet.

We can worry about it.

We can plan for it.

We can obsess over it at 2 a.m. while eating crackers and staring at the ceiling...

But we can't control it.

So, what do we actually have?

Today.

Right now.

This moment.

And everything can change in the blink of an eye.

A phone call.

A conversation.

A decision.

A surprise.

A goodbye.

A hello.

A door opening.

A door slamming so hard you wonder if the person inside has anger-management issues.

Life changes.

Quickly.

So, pay attention.

Look around.

Listen to the people you love.

Notice the little things.

Laugh when something is funny.

Hug somebody.

Take the picture.

Eat the damn cake.

Tell someone you love them.

Stop waiting for the “perfect time.”

Because sometimes we're so busy worrying about what happened yesterday or what might happen tomorrow that we completely miss the only day we can actually live.

Today.

Don't miss your own life while you're busy thinking about it.

WHEN YOU LOVE SOMEONE BUT THEY CAN'T FEEL IT

This one hurts.

Sometimes you can love someone with your whole heart and still struggle to make them understand how deeply you love them.

You can show it.

You can say it.

You can give.

You can sacrifice.

You can be there.

You can scream it from the rooftops.

You can probably rent a billboard if you're feeling particularly dramatic.

“HEY! I LOVE YOU! PLEASE READ THE SIGN!”

And yet...

If someone doesn't believe they're worthy of love, they may not be able to accept yours.

That's heartbreaking.

Because you can give someone love until you're practically running on emotional fumes, but you cannot force them to believe they're deserving of it.

And sometimes that makes love feel wasted.

I don't necessarily believe love is ever truly wasted.

But damn...

It can sure feel like it.

Especially when one person is desperately trying to give love while the other person keeps putting up walls.

And everybody gets hurt.

The person giving the love hurts.

The person unable to receive it hurts.

And somewhere in the middle is a giant pile of feelings nobody knows what to do with.

Love isn't always about finding the perfect words.

Sometimes it's about showing up.

Sometimes it's about patience.

Sometimes it's about giving someone space.

And sometimes, unfortunately, it's about accepting that you cannot love someone into loving themselves.

That's a lesson nobody puts on a greeting card.

Probably because Hallmark doesn't want to make everybody cry in aisle seven.

DON'T LOOK FOR SOMEONE TO SOLVE YOUR PROBLEMS

You don't need someone to come riding into your life on a white horse and magically fix everything.

First of all...

That horse has bills too.

Look for someone who won't make you face your problems alone.

That's different.

You don't need a savior.

You need a partner.

Someone who says:

“Okay. This sucks. Let's figure it out together.”

Someone who stays when things get ugly.

Someone who laughs with you when things are wonderful.

Someone who sits beside you when neither of you has the slightest clue what the hell you're doing.

Someone who catches you when you fall.

And you should be willing to catch them, too.

Because relationships aren't supposed to be:

“What can you do for me?”

They're supposed to be:

“How can we get through this together?”

There will be thick.

There will be thin.

There will be days when everything is wonderful.

There will be days when you look at each other and silently wonder if either of you remembered to buy milk.

That's life.

You're going to experience pain together.

But you're also going to experience the smiles.

The ridiculous moments.

The inside jokes.

The stupid dancing.

The laughter that makes your stomach hurt.

The quiet moments when you don't even have to say anything.

That's the good stuff.

That's the ride-or-die stuff.

Unless, of course, you push somebody away.

And if you do that, sometimes they'll give you the space you so obviously demanded.

And then you may suddenly realize:

“Wait... COME BACK!”

Relationships are complicated.

People are complicated.

We're all complicated little emotional meatballs trying to navigate life.

Be patient with each other.

YOU CANNOT SATISFY AN UNGRATEFUL PERSON

This one is simple.

You could hand an ungrateful person the moon and they'd complain that you didn't include a star.

Some people will take everything you give them and still ask:

“Is that all?”

You can go above and beyond.

You can exhaust yourself.

You can give your time, energy, money, love, attention and probably your last tacho...

And they'll still find something to complain about.

At some point, you have to stop.

Not because you don't care.

Because you matter too.

Sometimes walking away is not cruelty.

Sometimes it's self-respect.

And yes...

That can even mean walking away from people who are related to you.

Blood does not automatically equal loyalty.

Family can be beautiful.

But family can also hurt you.

And sometimes the people who aren't related to you by blood become the people who show you what family is actually supposed to feel like.

The right people don't make you beg for a place in their lives.

They don't make you constantly prove your worth.

They don't make you wonder whether your presence is an inconvenience.

They simply show up.

They want you there.

They make room.

They make an effort.

And you don't have to audition for the role of “person who deserves to be loved.”

Because you already got the job.

NOW GO LIGHT UP THE DAMN WORLD

And finally...

This is what I really want to say tonight.

There is an entire world waiting to be colored by the light you bring into it.

So, color it.

Make something.

Write something.

Paint something.

Create something ridiculous.

Make somebody laugh.

Make somebody smile.

Tell somebody they're important.

Make someone feel needed.

Make yourself feel special.

Take the bubble bath.

Wear the ridiculous outfit.

Put on the music.

Dance badly.

Preferably with the curtains closed if you have absolutely no rhythm.

Pamper yourself.

Rest.

Laugh.

Love.

Create.

Be weird.

Be goofy.

Be unapologetically YOU.

Your light doesn't have to look like everybody else's.

Maybe yours is soft.

Maybe it's loud.

Maybe it's pink and sparkly and slightly obnoxious.

Excellent!

Mine probably is too.

The world has enough people trying to dim themselves down so everybody else feels comfortable.

Don't do that.

Shine.

Shine when you're happy.

Shine when you're healing.

Shine when you're figuring things out.

Shine when you're scared.

Shine when you're absolutely clueless.

And if somebody doesn't like your light?

Well...

They can put on sunglasses.

Because baby...

LIGHT UP THE SKY.

LIGHT UP THE ROOM.

LIGHT UP SOMEBODY'S DAY.

AND FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING PINK AND SPARKLY...

DON'T FORGET TO LIGHT UP YOUR OWN LIFE TOO!

Now if you'll excuse me, it's getting late and my brain has apparently scheduled Blog #4: “Why Am I Still Awake?”

Goodnight, world.

Or good morning, depending on how badly this insomnia situation escalates.

AUGUST 30, 2026

BLOG #2 OF THE DAY

 A LITTLE KINDNESS, A LITTLE GROWTH, AND A WHOLE LOT OF FIGURING THIS LIFE THING OUT

Let’s talk about something serious today.

Kindness. Growth. Hope. Self-love. Finding yourself. Becoming a better version of yourself.

You know… all those things that sound incredibly inspirational until you realize they require actual WORK.

Rude.

Wouldn’t it be fantastic if personal growth came with an instruction manual, a tracking number, and maybe a customer-service representative named Susan who could just fix everything while we took a nap?

Unfortunately, life apparently does not work that way.

So here we are.

 

 WE NEED TO BE INSPIRED BY OURSELVES—FOR OURSELVES.

We all need to be inspired by ourselves, for ourselves, and by others and for others.

This world needs more kindness.

And honestly?

We need to start with ourselves.

That isn't selfish.

That is self-care.

There is a difference between loving yourself and thinking you're the greatest human being who has ever walked the planet, and

One says, “I deserve kindness, too.”

The other says, “You're welcome for my presence.”

Please don't be that second person.

Kindness begins with how we treat ourselves because you can't continuously pour love, patience, understanding, and compassion into everybody else while treating yourself like an expired carton of milk shoved behind the mustard in the refrigerator.

Eventually, something is going to stink.

And it might be your attitude.

Kindness isn't just something we occasionally DO.

Kindness is a reflection of your mind, your spirit, and your soul.

And I don't know about you, but I would really like my reflection to look better than the one I get in a fitting-room mirror under fluorescent lighting.

That lighting has personally attacked me more times than I care to discuss.

 

 

ANSWER THE DANG PHONE!

Try the things that keep calling to you.

You may discover something new about the world.

You may discover something completely unexpected about yourself.

And the only way to know whether you have a true calling is to answer the phone.

Now, before you get excited, I'm not talking about that mysterious number that keeps calling you from three states away.

That's probably a warranty scam.

Ignore that one.

I'm talking about the little voice inside you that keeps saying:

“Try this.”

“Go there.”

“Learn that.”

“Write something.”

“Start something.”

“Do something you've always wanted to do.”

That voice matters.

But here's the catch:

In order to answer the phone, you have to have the ringer turned on.

Sometimes we become so distracted by fear, disappointment, other people's opinions, responsibilities, expectations, and plain old exhaustion that we turn our inner ringer completely off.

Then we wonder why we don't hear ourselves anymore.

Turn it back on!

Your life is calling!

And apparently it does not believe in leaving voicemails.

You have to seek your true self to find your true self.

And yes, I realize that sounds like something printed on a decorative wooden sign at Hobby Lobby.

But that doesn't mean it isn't true.

 

 COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS… EVEN IF YOU HAVE TO COUNT WITH YOUR TOES.

Your days are better when you focus on your blessings instead of your problems.

Who wants to sit around thinking about problems all day?

Not me.

I already have enough problems without scheduling them a meeting.

Problems don't need a conference room.

They don't need coffee.

They don't need a PowerPoint presentation.

And they definitely don't need to bring Karen.

Sometimes we have to deliberately look for the good.

Not because our problems aren't real.

They are.

Not because we're supposed to pretend everything is sunshine, rainbows, unicorns, and perfectly behaved children.

Please.

Life can be messy.

People can be difficult.

Things can hurt.

Plans can explode spectacularly.

Sometimes you can do everything right and life still looks at you and says,

“Cute effort. Here's another problem.”

But even then, there is usually something worth noticing.

A person.

A moment.

A laugh.

A warm cup of coffee.

A beautiful sunset.

A ridiculous conversation.

A pet doing something completely idiotic.

A song that makes you feel alive.

A reason to get out of bed.

Sometimes the blessing is tiny.

Tiny still counts.

 

 TO EVERYONE WHO IS TRYING RIGHT NOW…

I want to say something to anybody out there who is struggling, rebuilding, starting over, hanging on, figuring things out, or simply trying to make it through the day without dramatically announcing,

“THAT'S IT. I'M MOVING TO A CABIN IN THE WOODS.”

Your effort matters.

Your effort is everything.

Keep trying to do the right thing.

Keep trying to hold on.

Keep trying to stay afloat.

Keep trying to love yourself.

Keep trying new things.

Keep trying to become who you want to become.

Because you get absolutely nowhere if you don't try.

You don't have to get everything right.

You don't have to have the perfect plan.

You don't have to wake up every morning looking like a motivational poster with suspiciously white teeth.

Sometimes success is simply:

“I got through today.”

And you know what?

That's enough.

Tomorrow is another opportunity to try again.

 

 LIFE IS ABOUT EVOLVING.

We are supposed to grow.

Mentally.

Spiritually.

Emotionally.

Personally.

And probably financially too, because apparently electricity companies are not particularly interested in our spiritual journey.

Don't stay in a situation that refuses to let you grow.

If something continually makes you smaller, quieter, sadder, more fearful, or less like yourself, it's worth asking why you're still standing there.

Growth doesn't always mean leaving everything behind.

Sometimes people, places, and things can come with us.

As long as they evolve with us.

That's important.

We get so busy reaching for what's next that we forget to notice how much beauty is already here.

Yes, grow.

Yes, improve.

Yes, chase your dreams.

But don't become so obsessed with the next chapter that you forget to appreciate the one you're currently living.

Sometimes you can bring beautiful things with you.

Sometimes you can bring beautiful people with you.

Sometimes you can bring memories.

Sometimes you can bring lessons.

Sometimes you can bring your favorite coffee mug because, let's be honest, that thing has been through enough with you already.

Don't leave behind what is beautiful simply because you're growing.

Leave behind what holds you back.

There is a difference.

 

STAY HUMBLE. STAY GENUINE.

It is important to be humble.

Being genuine attracts blessings.

And who doesn't need to be blessed every now and then?

I surely do.

I could use a blessing or twelve.

Maybe a coupon for emotional stability would be nice.

Or free shipping on peace of mind.

I'll take whatever the universe is offering.

But seriously, being genuine matters.

You don't have to pretend to be perfect.

You don't have to pretend you have everything figured out.

You don't have to walk around acting like you've achieved enlightenment when you still occasionally want to throw a shoe at the wall.

We're human.

We're messy.

We're complicated.

We're learning.

We're making mistakes.

We're getting back up.

And sometimes we're standing in the kitchen at 11:47 p.m. eating something we don't even remember grabbing.

That's life.

 

YOU ARE STRONGER THAN YOU THINK.

You are living proof that a person can carry unimaginable heaviness and still leave room for tiny pieces of hope.

Read that again.

Because sometimes we forget how much we've survived.

You have made it through days you didn't think you'd make it through.

You've experienced things that changed you.

You've lost things.

You've gained things.

You've loved.

You've hurt.

You've healed.

You've started over.

And somehow…

You're still here.

The more you live, the more opportunities you have to grow.

The more you grow, the more room there is for hope.

The more hope you have, the more possibilities you can see.

I'm not entirely sure if that is scientifically accurate.

But it sounds right.

And honestly, I'm going with it.

 

DON'T FORGET TO LEAVE ROOM FOR YOU.

Please leave a little room for yourself in the beautiful life you're working so hard to build.

Don't forget your ME TIME.

Rest.

Laugh.

Be ridiculous.

Sit quietly.

Watch something stupid.

Read.

Daydream.

Take a walk.

Pet an animal.

Eat dessert.

Paint a picture.

Whatever makes your soul breathe a little easier.

You are allowed to enjoy your life while you're improving it.

You don't have to become a completely different person before you're allowed to be happy.

You can be a work in progress and still have a good time.

Take care of yourself.

Take care of the people who take care of you.

Because life works best when there is a genuine give and take.

All take drains people.

All give drains people too.

We need balance.

We need reciprocity.

We need people who show up for us while we show up for them.

We need relationships where nobody is constantly keeping score but everybody is still putting in the effort.

A true 50/50 give-and-take life would be absolutely wonderful.

And my heavens…

I HOPE WE GET THAT SOON!

Preferably before I turn 97.

 

THESE DAYS… I WANT SIMPLE.

The older I get, the more I realize something:

I don't want drama.

I don't want constant conflict.

I don't want unnecessary stress.

I don't want relationships that feel like a hostage negotiation.

I don't want to spend my life arguing about things that won't matter five years from now.

I want peace.

I want a cozy home.

I want a few pets.

I want some adventure.

I want happy, caring friends.

I want laughter.

I want genuine conversations.

I want people around me who can be honest without being cruel.

I want people who can disagree without declaring World War III.

And yes…

I would love to have that special someone to share it all with.

Someone to laugh with.

Someone to sit quietly with.

Someone to paint with.

Someone to explore new places with.

Someone who understands that sometimes love means talking about deep emotional issues…

…and sometimes it means arguing over what we're having for dinner.

And other times it means yup, we’re having a water balloon fight.

Someone who can look across the room at me and know exactly what I'm thinking.

Life doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful.

Maybe growing older isn't about having everything figured out.

Maybe it's about finally figuring out what actually matters.

Kindness matters.

Peace matters.

Growth matters.

Hope matters.

Love matters.

Laughter matters.

Being silly matters.

The people who show up matter.

And you matter.

So, keep growing.

Keep trying.

Keep laughing.

Keep dreaming.

Keep answering those inner phone calls.

Keep looking for the blessings.

Keep making room for yourself.

And when life gets ridiculous—and trust me, it will—try to laugh when you can.

Because sometimes the most courageous thing we can do is keep moving forward with a smile on our face, a little hope in our heart, and just enough sarcasm to keep everybody around us appropriately concerned.

We're all still figuring this out.

Nobody really knows what they're doing.

Some people are just better at pretending.

So, let's keep growing.

Let's keep loving.

Let's keep being kind.

Let's keep becoming.

And most importantly…

 

LET'S NOT FORGET TO ENJOY THE RIDE.

Because apparently there is no instruction manual.

And honestly?

If there were, I'd probably lose it anyway. 

August 31, 2026

Knees, Chickens, Pineapples, Herbs, Hair, and the Ongoing Battle Against Civilization…

Well, today has been one of those days.

You know the kind.

The kind where you wake up early, go to the bathroom, go to work instead of going back to bed, see the doctor, schedule surgery, contemplate the meaning of life, argue with chickens, become emotionally attached to a pineapple, and somehow end the day plotting your escape from an entire town.

So basically… Monday.

I had my doctor’s appointment today, and we scheduled my first of two knee surgeries!

Supposedly.

Apparently, it is going to happen on September 22, 2026, at approximately 7:30 a.m. And I say supposedly because this surgery has already been scheduled twice before and never actually happened.

At this point, I’m beginning to think my knee surgery has commitment issues.

But we shall see!

I’m keeping my head up about the whole situation because what else am I supposed to do? Throw myself dramatically across the floor while yelling, “WHY, ORTHOPEDICS, WHY?!”

No.

I have other things to complain about.

For instance, I am exhausted.

I woke up early this morning to use the restroom and then had to start working instead of going back to sleep. I knew that with the long drive to and from the doctor and the appointment itself, I would need to get some work time in before leaving for my appointment.

That sounded like a perfectly reasonable plan at the time.

Now, at 6:32 p.m., I am struggling to keep my eyes open.

I completely understand why older people eat dinner at 4 and go to sleep at 7.

They know things.

They have figured out the secret.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting here wondering why I’m tired when apparently my body has decided that sleep is optional but aging is mandatory.

Oh well.

Aging may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but aging is a gift.

You can either age or die.

I choose age, thank you very much.

Besides, I just colored my hair auburn. It looks good, but it feels too natural for me. I think I just need to get used to it.

I still need a haircut.

We’re supposedly going to go get one this week.

We’re also supposedly going to go to a dollar store because apparently we’re going to spend a thousand dollars there.

We’re not.

I’m telling you, if the roommate doesn’t want to do something for herself, she can just stay home.

Her exact statement was, “I can only do things for myself when she already has places to go because she wants me to do the driving.”

Luckily, I can at least get to my doctor appointments because my health insurance has medical transportation.

And let me tell you something:

When you’re in a wheelchair, transportation becomes a luxury service you never knew you needed until you desperately need it.

Meanwhile, I Have Chickens to deal with.

Currently, I have three chickens next to me on the couch.

They are eating seed mix and throwing it everywhere.

Because apparently chickens have decided that the floor is beneath them and the couch is the appropriate dining establishment.

No matter where I go in this house, there are chickens and their food.

I am going a little insane from it.

I am not saying anything bad about the chickens. I know how much they mean to my landlord/roommate.

I’m just saying that I am becoming a little less enthusiastic about the concept of indoor poultry.

I’m dodging birdseed left and right, and it is making me feel a little nutty!

Dieting, Pineapples, and My New Fruit Obsession

Dieting is going well.

I have been back on track for a little while now.

Lots of vegetables, rice, and small amounts of chicken. A little fruit here and there too. We do not eat my roommates chickens tho, they are her pets. Just wanted to make sure everyone knows that.

I cannot have too much fruit because of my colitis and the side effects.

Wait.

Anyway…

Bananas are always good. They don't seem to affect my illnesses and they are yummy and so good for you.

And they come in their own carrying case!

And I think other than pineapple, they are my favorite fruit.

Pineapple is one of those fruits I can rarely eat because of my illness, and I really miss it when I can’t have it.

It is the perfect food.

It tastes good.

It clears up phlegm and helps with coughs.

It takes away your thirst and hunger when you eat it.

It is full of nutrients and vitamins and smells so good.

Dear pineapple, I think I’m in love.

I may need to start a support group.

‘People Who Love Pineapple But Their Bodies Have Betrayed Them.’

Apparently, I’m an Herbal Nerd

My first degree was an associate’s degree in Natural Health Consulting.

I learned all about various herbs and spices and foods and minerals and all that.

Homeopathy has always been my go-to before actual medicines.

I am not someone who doesn’t believe in actual medication. I just prefer nature to chemicals whenever possible.

I use Evening Primrose to help heal my nerve sheaths for my MS, as MS meds all seem to cause cancer as a side effect and PASS.

I use kelp to help keep my thyroid in check.

I don’t know how to explain it because it wasn’t explained to me exactly, but my thyroid number was at 111 and they said it should be between 1 and 2.

With the kelp pills, I got mine down to 2 in a year.

I am allergic to the thyroid medications, and this worked great! Now I take a smaller dose daily to keep it in check.

It has helped me get my metabolism back in check for sure!

I take a compilation of a variety of herbs to keep my kidney working right because now that I only have one kidney, kidney health is even more important than ever.

With MS, UTIs are quite often a problem, and with my herbs I stopped having them all together.

Because of my Tuberous Sclerosis, I had to have a kidney removed in June of 2020, right at the beginning of COVID.

I never got COVID, thank goodness, but everyone was wearing masks and gloves in the hospital, including receptionists and patients.

I was so scared being surrounded by so many people that I was going to catch it.

My favorite aunt, who I lived with a few times, passed from it.

I think it affected everyone in one way or another, whether they got it or not.

And now I have completely lost my train of thought.

There it goes.

Probably underneath the couch with the chicken seed.

Hair, Dollar Stores, and the Fine Art of Not Paying $40 for Deodorant

Anyway…

I think I have spoken enough about illnesses and herbs and such.

I am hoping we go out at some point this week and I get my hair cut to go with my new hair color.

I also hope we can stop at a dollar store so I can make a few new purchases.

I need a bunch of toiletries, and I am all about the cheapies.

I do not need name-brand wrinkle cream or deodorant or any of that.

The cheaper, the better!

Because I have used the expensive stuff, and I swear it is all the damn same!

Except for Q-Tips.

Generic cotton swabs suck big donkey dicks and I refuse to buy them.

There.

I said it.

That is my hill.

I will die on it surrounded by name-brand Q-Tips.

Name-brand Q-Tips only.

Generic everything else.

On occasion, I splurge.

I’m not completely unreasonable.

And Then There’s the Post Office…

The post office isn’t delivering to the house right now or picking up from the house right now because the dog chased the mailman.

Didn't catch him.

Didn't bite him.

Just barked and scared him.

Apparently, that was enough to put our mailbox delivery situation on the international incident list.

The post office is not wheelchair accessible, and I have 11 packages, some with medication in them, waiting for me there.

So, they are keeping my possessions hostage.

This is where things get really ridiculous.

The guy who is not our usual delivery person is scared of dogs. He’s the one who this happened to of course.

The dog here is big and loud but ever so friendly.

They are just holding my stuff.

I mean, yeah, keep my bills.

Help pay them while you’re at it.

But I want my letters from Scott.

And my occasional fan mail.

And my medications, of course.

And everything else I get shipped.

Because when you're in a wheelchair without transportation, you get a lot of things delivered and shipped.

So now I have yet another place discriminating against me and the wheelchair and walker-using people in this town.

There is no ramp to get into the building.

This tiny town with its corrupt government and misogynistic police force…

I gotta get out of this town!

Seriously.

At this point, between the chickens, the surgery that apparently needs three invitations before it actually shows up, the post office holding my packages hostage, my body constantly filing complaints against itself, and my inability to buy a pineapple without consequences…

I’m starting to think I need a vacation.

Preferably somewhere with ramps.

And no chickens.

And a pineapple buffet.

And a post office that doesn't fear dogs.

And maybe a bed somewhere where I can lie down for approximately fourteen hours.

Because apparently, I’m getting older.

And wiser.

And sleepier.

But at least I’m still laughing.

And honestly, if you can still laugh when life hands you two bad knees, three chickens, eleven hostage packages, a rebellious dog, questionable generic Q-Tips, and a pineapple you’re not allowed to eat…

you’re probably doing just fine.

Or you're completely losing your mind.

Either way, I'm here.

And tomorrow is another day.

God help everybody!

September 1, 2026

I’m An Empath… Just Another Reason Why I Am Always Exhausted…

Some people think I am crazy when I say I am an empath.

Some people have no idea what the hell I am talking about.

And some people think being an empath sounds really cool.

Those people have obviously never spent three hours in a grocery store surrounded by approximately 147 people, two screaming toddlers, one angry cashier, a teenager who looks like he hasn't slept since 2019, and a woman arguing with her husband over avocados.

Because when you're an empath, sometimes you don't just notice everybody else's emotions.

You FEEL them.

And honestly?

I am tired.

Not regular tired.

Not “I stayed up too late watching television” tired.

I mean “I walked into a room and accidentally downloaded everybody's emotional baggage” tired.

So, What the Heck Is an Empath?

Let's make this really simple.

An empath is someone who can feel other people's emotions very strongly.

Most people can look at someone who is crying and think:

“That person is sad.”

An empath may look at that same person and think:

“Oh no. Why am I suddenly sad? Why does my chest feel heavy? Why do I feel like I need a blanket, a hug, and possibly a therapist?”

That's the difference.

Regular empathy is understanding how someone else feels.

Being highly empathic can mean feeling those emotions so strongly that they start affecting you, too.

And sometimes you don't even know where the feeling came from.

You could be perfectly happy one minute.

Then you walk into a room.

Someone is angry.

Someone else is anxious.

Someone is worried.

Someone is quietly upset but pretending they're fine.

And your brain goes:

“EXCELLENT! LET'S FEEL ALL OF THAT!”

Meanwhile, I'm sitting there thinking:

“I did not order the emotional buffet.”

Empaths Notice Things Other People Might Miss

Empaths often notice little things.

Someone says, “I'm fine.”

But their voice sounds different.

Their smile doesn't reach their eyes.

They're quieter than usual.

Something feels...off.

Most people might not notice.

An empath notices and immediately thinks:

“Okay, something is wrong.”

Sometimes we're right.

Sometimes we're wrong.

And occasionally we're so wrong that we deserve our own detective badge revoked.

But that little gut feeling can be very strong.

It's almost like your brain is constantly scanning the room for emotional weather.

“Looks like sadness coming from the kitchen, mild irritation near the couch, and a 90% chance of somebody being pissed off by dinner.”

Empaths Can Be Extremely Compassionate

Another thing about being an empath is that we often really, really want to help.

If someone is hurting, we don't just think:

“That's unfortunate.”

We may think:

“How can I fix this? What do you need? Do you need food? Money? A hug? A ride?”

Okay.

Maybe not a ride as I have no car,

but you get my point.

We care deeply.

We want people to feel better.

We want animals to feel better.

We want strangers to feel better.

Sometimes we probably want the entire planet to feel better.

Which is a lovely quality...

until you realize you cannot personally repair every broken human being on Earth.

Trust me.

I have checked.

The paperwork alone is ridiculous.

And Then There Are Boundaries...

This is where things get tricky.

When you can easily sense other people's feelings, it can be difficult to remember that their feelings belong to them.

Their anger doesn't have to become your anger.

Their sadness doesn't have to become your sadness.

Their anxiety doesn't have to become your anxiety.

Their bad days do not have to become your bad week.

But telling an empath that is sometimes like telling a puppy:

“Please don't chase that squirrel.”

The puppy hears you.

The puppy understands you.

The puppy has absolutely no intention of listening.

Learning boundaries is important.

Sometimes helping someone means listening.

Sometimes helping means offering support.

And sometimes helping means saying:

“I love you, but I cannot carry this for you.”

That doesn't make you cold.

It doesn't mean you don't care.

It means you're finally realizing that you cannot pour from an empty cup.

And if you're an empath, your cup may already be sitting somewhere in the kitchen wondering why everyone keeps filling it with other people's emotional soup.

Why Alone Time Can Feel So Good

This is another big one.

Sometimes empaths need to be alone.

Not because we hate people.

Not because we are antisocial.

Not because we're secretly plotting to move into a cave.

We just need a break.

Imagine walking around all day with ten different radio stations playing inside your head.

One person is happy.

Another is worried.

Someone is angry.

Someone is grieving.

Someone is excited.

Someone is lonely.

Someone else is pretending everything is fine.

And you're picking up pieces of all of it.

Eventually your brain says:

“THAT'S ENOUGH. EVERYBODY OUT.”

Quiet becomes medicine for the soul.

A quiet room.

A little music.

A book.

A television show.

A walk.

Time with yourself.

Anything that lets your brain stop processing everybody else's emotional noise for a while.

And Yes… Animals Count Too

Oh, you thought I was getting a break from animals?

Absolutely not.

Animals have feelings, too.

And if you're sensitive to emotions, animals can be incredibly powerful.

A nervous dog can make you nervous.

A sad animal can break your heart.

A happy dog can make you ridiculously happy.

And if you've ever watched an animal stare at you like it has personally witnessed the collapse of civilization, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

“What’s wrong, buddy?”

The dog:

stares

Me:

“Was it your childhood?”

The dog:

continues staring

Me:

“Okay, apparently we're unpacking some things today.”

Different Kinds of Empaths

People sometimes describe different types of empathic experiences.

An emotional empath may strongly feel another person's emotions.

An intuitive empath may have a powerful gut feeling about what someone is thinking or feeling.

A physical empath may be especially sensitive to another person's physical discomfort or pain.

Not every empath experiences all of these things.

And there's an important point here:

Being highly sensitive to other people's emotions is a real experience for many people, but the scientific explanation for exactly why some people experience it so strongly is still being studied.

You may hear people talk about mirror neurons as one possible part of the story. These are brain cells involved in responding when we perform an action and when we watch someone else perform a similar action.

But science does not have a simple little button in the brain labeled:

“EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH: EMOTIONAL SPONGE.”

Wouldn't that be nice?

At least we'd know where the off switch was.

The Good Stuff

Being deeply sensitive isn't all bad.

Actually, it can be a wonderful thing.

Empaths can build very deep relationships.

They may be great listeners.

They may notice when someone needs help.

They may care deeply about people and animals.

They can understand emotions in ways that aren't always easy to put into words.

And sometimes that sensitivity is exactly what allows someone to comfort another person when nobody else knows what to say.

That's the beautiful part.

And Then Comes the Exhaustion

Now for the part nobody puts on the inspirational coffee mug.

It can be exhausting.

Crowds can be exhausting.

Arguments can be exhausting.

Stressful environments can be exhausting.

Being around someone who is extremely upset can be exhausting.

Even being around happy, excited, energetic people can sometimes be exhausting.

Because apparently my brain doesn't understand the concept of:

“That's THEIR emotion. Leave it over there.”

Nope.

My brain sees an emotion and says:

“Oh! We're collecting those now!”

And suddenly I'm exhausted and don't even know why.

This is one reason I have to be careful about how much emotional stimulation I take in.

And no, I'm not complaining.

I'm explaining.

There is a difference.

And About Anxiety Medication...

Some people who experience intense anxiety or emotional overload may use medications prescribed by their doctors to help manage those symptoms.

But being an empath doesn't automatically mean someone needs medication, and medication isn't what makes someone an empath.

For me, though, it is another piece of the puzzle when I'm already dealing with a brain that apparently thinks everybody else's feelings are somehow my homework.

And that can contribute to feeling tired.

Very tired.

“Please don't ask me what I did today because I absorbed the emotional atmosphere of three humans, 1 dog, a television commercial, and somebody arguing and a rude letter from a stranger on Facebook.”

That's a full workday right there.

So, What Am I Supposed to Do With All This?

Learn boundaries.

Take breaks.

Get quiet time.

Pay attention to what I'm feeling.

Ask myself:

“Is this actually MY emotion?”

That question can be incredibly important.

Because sometimes the answer is:

“Yes.”

And sometimes the answer is:

“Nope. I picked this up from somebody else and would like to return it to sender.”

I can care about people without carrying them.

I can listen without fixing everything.

I can love people without absorbing every ounce of their pain.

And I can walk away from an emotionally exhausting situation without feeling guilty about it.

Because being sensitive doesn't mean I have to be available to everybody, all the time.

And Maybe That's the Biggest Lesson

Being an empath isn't a superpower that makes life magical.

It's not a diagnosis.

It's not an excuse to avoid people.

And it certainly doesn't mean I have some mystical crystal ball sitting inside my forehead.

It simply means that I experience other people's emotions very deeply.

Sometimes that's beautiful.

Sometimes it's painful.

Sometimes it's useful.

Sometimes it's completely exhausting.

And sometimes I would really appreciate it if everyone around me could just...

STOP HAVING FEELINGS FOR FIVE MINUTES.

I'm kidding.

Mostly.

Because at the end of the day, I wouldn't necessarily trade away the part of me that cares deeply.

I just wish my emotional antenna came with an OFF BUTTON.

Or at least a volume control.

Maybe something like:

FEEL EVERYBODY'S FEELINGS

FEEL SOME PEOPLE'S FEELINGS

NORMAL HUMAN FUNCTIONING

DO NOT DISTURB. SHE IS PETTING CATS.

That last setting sounds particularly healthy.

So, if you're an empath, or you think you might be one, remember this:

You are allowed to care.

You are allowed to feel.

You are allowed to help.

But you are also allowed to rest.

You are allowed to say no.

You are allowed to step away.

And you are absolutely allowed to protect your peace.

Because caring about everyone else doesn't mean you have to abandon yourself.

And if you happen to need a little alone time afterward?

Well...

Apparently, that's not being antisocial.

That's called recharging the emotional battery before it starts flashing “1%” and shuts down in the middle of Walmart.

And honestly?

That sounds like a pretty damn good plan to me.