I didn’t know how badly I needed to come home until I arrived at my mother’s apartment with movers, Saturday afternoon.
I walked in the door and immediately curled up on her couch. I didn’t care where the movers put the boxes. I didn’t have the energy to give anymore instructions. I didn’t have the energy for anything. I sank into the couch cushions, closed my eyes and let the warmth and Glade plug-in fragrance of my mother’s home welcome me. I knew I’d had a rough year, but I didn’t realize how rough until I exhaled my first real breath for the first time in forever in my mother’s home. As ashamed as I was about returning to my mother’s at 31 years old, everything in my mind, body, and soul told me I needed a damn break.
It’s come to my attention over the last few months that a handful of readers make a practice of reading between the lines of my posts. I get it. We live in the information age where surface knowledge of a thing is never enough. It’s not enough to read my most intimate thoughts (which I obviously don’t mind, otherwise I wouldn’t share them), you also have to know the who/what/when/where/why. Continue reading
I like these random questions posts. Mostly because as a little girl, I dreamed of being famous and answering them makes me feel like I’m being interviewed. They also work well for lazy posts when I want to post, but don’t necessarily want to write. (That totally makes sense in my head). I found these at 50 Random Questions Tag on It’s Lander. Randomness for your reading entertainment:
One. Who would you throw into the Bermuda Triangle?
Um. This is petty and mad passive aggressive, but someone low-key shitted on my birthday week. While I’m over it now, that’s the person who most recently pissed me off. They’d get tossed.