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A couple years ago I got the bright idea to write a to do list on my kitchen cabinet. I used chalk pens because it would wipe off. Spoiler alert, it did not. Today I’m extremely happy for the reminder and that I’m married to someone who thinks my writing on the cabinets is awesome. ❤️ https://www.instagram.com/p/B_Q0zIpJhKx/?igshid=t95aywrihtch
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I’m hungry but if I get up she will too... and she looks so comfy. But I’m not getting anything done thinking about being hungry. https://www.instagram.com/p/B5fzB2-pKka/?igshid=rs1e0cyi3cq9
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Brand new fuzzy lined socks with fleece jammies and my kitty. Almost perfect. I need a Christmas movie to watch. https://www.instagram.com/p/B5eS4CeJV0V/?igshid=jtw88oqcwspw
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I’m not sure how I feel about relating to this...
when you’re trying to write and your last two functioning brain cells start yelling at each other
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The more you look at this picture, the more anxious it becomes.
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I seriously need to channel my inner goddess. https://www.instagram.com/p/BvXM2JDnpGs/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=sjjwcopgh3lb
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“Take care of yourself,” always seems to hurt... like I’m reaching to find support and I get, “Yep, that sucks. You’re on your own there. Good luck with that.”
None of the comments on the right work anyway. EVER.
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“Perhaps she was glass. But glass is only brittle until it breaks. Then it’s sharp.”
— V.E. Schwab, Vengeful
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One of the hardest things to do is trust someone else not to hurt you. You can shut yourself off from it, go numb. The world becomes gray but it can be done. Is it worth it? All the work it takes to truly distance yourself? At least it doesn’t hurt. You miss a lot of joy but at least it doesn’t hurt.
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No body positivity today, but I went to the gym and didn’t collapse so there’s that. It’s been so long since I’ve been to the gym that I forgot how to work the treadmill settings resulting in a shortened workout. I did 20 minutes plus cool down so... I guess that is something.
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I did a short lived body positivity thing on another blog a long time ago but I deleted it. I think it’s good for me so I’m going to do it again, right here; mostly because I’m too lazy to start another blog dedicated to it.
This scar, bits of it go all around my neck. It is proof of the first trauma that tried to take my life. A drunk driver hit us. The dog in our car wrapped his chain around my neck in the chaos and then pulled hard enough to brake off the chair. Bilbo Baggins was his name. My aunt says it looked like my head had been chopped off and set back on my neck. I was 2 years old. For a long time I was self conscious of the scar. I’m in my 40s now. It’s not going anywhere. It’s proof that even as a toddler I was badass tough. I lived.
Don’t drink and drive. Always take leashes off dogs in the car.
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My office is feeling a bit more like home. 🙌🙌 https://www.instagram.com/p/BsYDY1QnU_S/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1qi6g0rv6zsds
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Dragon fruit... the things my boys ask for at the store. https://www.instagram.com/p/BsECI34Hg79/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=em1yodzkjgs7
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