compounding for better or worse
2am can’t-sleep thoughts, in no particular order.
I think the point of adulthood hits when you decide it’s no longer worth the energy it takes to create a facade of the person you are.
It seems we have accepted in this world of ours that the only time we can be ourselves truly is when we’ve swallowed a few shots of liquor and have this mental state as an excuse for what we say and do, even if it’s our truth.
Continue reading “Be Yourself and No One Else”She had me fill out a paper, like she does every week. This week, question 1 — what would you tell a friend who was down on his/herself? Then, question 2 — what do you tell yourself when you are struggling?
The point of the exercise, originally created by self-compassion psychologist Kristin Neff, was to highlight how easy it is to be compassionate for a friend, but not necessarily for oneself. The goal — find a more compassionate, less self judgmental path to take, starting today, starting right now.
There are a few standard questions you get when someone finds out you are pregnant — so standard that I may just start answering them before I’m asked.
Well, the answer to one is, yes, but I’m not telling anyone… and two, I’ve had an incredibly smooth pregnancy thus far.
As a marketer, one thing I can spot from a mile away is marketing spin. Enter, Donald Trump, the master of said spin. When the 2018 Tax Plan was being debated I did an unhealthy amount of research and calculations on if what was being spun was actually true. Since my last post about keeping separate finances in marriage led to a big of confusion and misinformation over taxes for married couples in 2018, I thought I’d share what I’ve learned.
It has taken me until my 30s to figure out how to put my shirt on the right-side out and not lock myself out of the house by accident (have done that a few times.) How on earth am I going to be responsible for a life that is entirely counting on me to keep it alive?
Even though I’m getting to the point where I’m noticeably pregnant (23 weeks this weekend), it still feels incredibly surreal that baby E will be here in less than FOUR MONTHS. I don’t know, I guess I thought when you were this pregnant that whole baby-is-about-to-be-here thing would feel more real. Even when I wake up in the middle of the night to flutters in my stomach, it doesn’t seem like there’s a baby in there — it’s more like an alien snake has found its way into my intestines (cue horror music.) But a person? Nah.
Continue reading “Ok, I’ll admit it — I’m terrified of being a mom.”Maybe it’s just the pregnancy hormones, but I’ve been on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster lately. Well, the reality is I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster my entire life, so it’s not exactly that different at the moment. But I do think some of those highs and lows of my teens and 20s are coming back in full force.
That said, there’s a lot of good things happening right now, and I’ve been reminded (in searching the internet at odd hours of the night due to my pregnancy-induced insomnia) that the best cure for feeling down is gratitude. Even though I’ll never be a #blessed type, I do feel grateful for many things in my life that are actually pretty amazing. This doesn’t remove the desire to want to stop feeling like such an alien all the time, but it does provide an important reminder that things are ok.
Continue reading “A Quick Post on Happiness.”
Mental “health” is such a strange concept. Being human is hard. I mean, we’re animals, with full awareness, and we comprehend our own mortality. We are, for all intents and purposes, born into this earth out of nowhere, taught life has this greater purpose, and then, inevitably, return to the dust a short time later. Along the way, the people we care about often just disappear.
At an even grander scale of context, the earth has been around 4.5 BILLION years. We’re lucky if we live to 100. And even if we do, those 100 years will be filled with some really amazing moments, but also a lot of loss, pain, and events we’d prefer to avoid that are entirely out of our control.
Someone convince me being anxious and depressed is an “unhealthy” way to handle this predicament.
Continue reading “Dear Depression & Anxiety: STFU.”
I won’t have any, of course. In case you haven’t caught on, I’m about 22 weeks pregnant, and I haven’t had a sip of anything resembling alcohol since Thanksgiving (if you’re doing the math, I was pregnant then, but I didn’t know it yet, and apparently according to my doctor and all of the internet that is fine.) Then I went cold turkey.
It hasn’t been that hard since I’ve never been a “glass a night” type of gal. But, sometimes I like to get lost in the buzz of a half shot of good whiskey or a glass of some kind of red (it usually ends up being more than a glass since my husband hates wine and that bottle ought not go to waste.) Whiskey is much more convenient. But tonight, I’m wanting for Merlot.
Continue reading “Tonight, I’d like some Merlot.”Although for normal pregnancies, it’s not even possible to find out the gender until 18–20 weeks (without paying for additional blood work anyway), the first thing anyone asked me when I’ve told them I’m expecting (or second after “when are you due?”) is “do you know what you’re having?”
It’s truly crazy how much our sexual organs influence our life from even before we are born. And, even though I hope to allow my child the gender fluidity their needs to determine their own preferences on the feminine to masculine spectrum, I’m kicking myself for having any pre-conceived notions about the baby’s sex and gender. But certainly, they’re there.
Continue reading ““Is it a Girl or Boy?” — The Question Everyone is Asking this Pregnant Woman”Time. It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? Back in childhood, I intensely studied the second hand on the clock as it would tick around ever-so slowly at school. The minute hand would jolt into its next place every sixty seconds, and it only took fourty-five of those excruciatingly slow pins around the clock wheel until it was time to move on to the next class.
Summers. Those long, hot and humid New Jersey summers where the sun wouldn’t set up until nearly nine and it would still be warm. The fireflies twinkling in the distance, and up close, sometimes landing on your nose. The sound of crickets chirping, or maybe not crickets, but cicadas screaming. The freezing cold air of walking inside an air-conditioned building. Waiting forever for summer to end. It always did. But slowly. Gracefully. With all the intention of extending itself forever, always promising to return.
Continue reading “The Days that Turn into Weeks that Turn into Months that Turn into Years”
life with interest 