Author: stillmeinhere

I’ve started this week’s post three different times now. I had a grand idea for a Mother’s Day post. Sweet, chaotic, a bit funny. Then I had a post ready about hormones and perimenopause. I had the Reel all made. But the truth is writing it the week before my period is probably not the…

Nick took Emily on their adventure this weekend-solo, just the two of them, exactly what they both needed. While they were gone Evelyn and I held down the fort. We went for walks. We played Legos. We napped. We ate Chinese takeout. I got a solo ass kicking at the Y. Lower body day, two…

Last week was heavy. You showed up anyway — 3,157 of you on Friday alone — and I am still not over it. Thank you feels insufficient but it’s what I have so: thank you. From the bottom of everything. This blog started as a place to put things down and it has become something…

I’m back. The concert was last Saturday and I am still somewhere between emotionally wrung out and more at peace than I have felt in a very long time. Both of those things are true at the same time and I have decided to stop being surprised when that happens. Before I get into it…

I’m writing this on Tuesday. By the time you read it, I’ll already be in Chicago. That sentence alone is doing something to me right now. I debated even posting this week. The whole point of this trip is to disconnect and to be present in the moments I’m going to be having while I’m…

This week was a lot. I want to start there because I think sometimes we skip past that part and go straight to the lesson or the silver lining and I’m not quite ready to do that yet. Marisa had to say goodbye to Nala on Monday. If you know, you know. If you don’t…

Two more weeks. That’s all I’m saying. Two more weeks and I am on a plane to Chicago and Florence Welch is going to absolutely destroy me in the best possible way. But first — this week. Outlander is back on in the background while I write this and I just want to sit with…

Miley plays on the first day of my period. Every month. Like clockwork. I can picture the wrecking ball swinging in and everything, every bit of calm I spent three weeks rebuilding, just… gone. Shattered in the chaos of exhaustion and the very specific kind of drain that makes your bones feel heavy and your…

Repeat after me. “If at first I don’t succeed…” Go ahead. Say it. The correct answer — the aspirational one, the one on the meme — is “I can try again.” Sweet. Optimistic. Functional. And yet what most of us actually hear, regardless of birth order, regardless of the stakes, regardless of whether we’re talking…

It’s been a genuinely good week. Minus the moment I stood in front of a bathroom mirror — the full-view kind, hips up, the kind that doesn’t lie and doesn’t apologize — and thought, I don’t want to look like this anymore. Not in a spiral. Just a quiet, honest reckoning. The gym thing has…