What Music Moves You? Dancing. That’s what I miss most. Since dealing with more symptoms from my multiple autoimmune illnesses, I miss being able to dance until my heart’s content. There’s just something about blasting music that makes even the shittiest chores fun. Well… maybe not fun, but tolerable. Music gets you moving. You can lose yourself in the beat, the lyrics, and the whole vibe of a song. I might be less mobile these days, but I can still dance in my chair while I pay bills every week. My girls know it’s going down when Mom has the jams blaring. And that’s one thing I’ve definitely passed on to them. Inky likes to bake to Metallica and Linkin Park. Ruth is rarely without her earbuds. But music goes deeper than just making boring shit more tolerable. I’m sure you can relate. Has a song ever caught you completely off guard? Maybe it sparks a memory so strong and emotional that you can’t help but start the song over and practically hallucinate the day that song became embedded ...

Blog 11 — The Beauty of Doing Absolutely Nothing Sometimes Before I hit 40, having a full schedule was the goal. Every day, I had a list of things I had mentally impressed upon myself that I needed to get done. That list could be on an app, on paper, or written across a fancy dry-erase board. The method didn’t matter. What did matter? The dopamine hit I got from crossing off each item until there was nothing left. Seriously, the only way I felt accomplished at the end of the day was if I had completed my to-do list and had a clean slate waiting for me the next morning. Looking back, I realize that maybe I was compensating for not having a traditional job to go to every day. Or maybe, because I hadn’t worked through some of my childhood trauma yet, I was trying to keep my mind too busy to think about it. I’ve since gone to therapy. That will be a future blog… TBA. But now, I can’t think of one good damn reason I wore my body to the bone finding things to get mixed up in just so I could ...

Blog 10 — Marriage Isn’t Always 50/50 Marriage. If you are so inclined, when you’re young, it feels like a fairy tale where you and your lover get to play house—only you don’t play. You house. Once you grow up together in said marriage, you start to realize—and appreciate—the fact that this is not actually how marriage works. First, you have the honeymoon phase, where every little idiosyncrasy each of you has is considered cute. Nothing is annoying, and there is nowhere you’d rather be than with that person. Preferably in bed. Then, somewhere around the seven-year mark, you start to feel like you’re ready to rediscover a little individualism again, but with the comfort of knowing you always have each other’s backs. This might mean guys’ or girls’ nights out with date nights mixed in. You have your own interests, your own friends, and your own things going on—but at the end of the day, you’re back in each other’s arms sharing all the latest tea. Of course, you have more questions than h...

  Things I Wish My Younger Self Had Known Can I just say that my blog topic choice is about as cliché as it gets? But! I can guarantee that if you ask any person over 40 what they wish they could tell their younger self, they’ll have a laundry list of answers—usually followed by a caveat about which lesson was the most important. As a parent, it’s incredibly easy to answer this question. If anyone asked me what should be included in a how-to book about raising children, I’d say it should be a compilation of answers to this very question: “If I could go back and talk to my younger self, what would I say?” Hilariously enough, if you have children, I bet they could answer it for you. How many times, while correcting your child’s behavior, have you uttered the words, “Look, take it from me,” or “I speak from experience”? Or my personal favorite: “If only I could go back, I would do this differently!” If you can’t answer the question directly, think about how you’ve parented your childr...

Why I Love Used Book Stores Books are it. I recommend them 1000%. It’s a story.  It’s a journey.  It’s a way to visit more places than you could ever imagine. Even before my autoimmune disease progressed, I loved to read. The hours melted away while I was engrossed in a story that took me places and taught me things I couldn’t have learned in the small town where I grew up. As I grew up, the more I read, the more these stories fueled who I became because they gave me a way to learn about different cultures, perspectives, and ways of life. In my purse, at any age in my life, you could always find my wallet, brush, makeup, and a book. Now that I’m in my 40s, that’s changed just a bit. Now you’ll find my wallet, brush, painkiller... But there will always be a book. In a homemade protective sleeve, no doubt. Funny thing is, I protect every book whether it is brand new or used. Why? Because as long as the pages are in order, it tells a story worth reading. There is always a chance ...