Last week was New Year\u2019s Eve, and I cried in my car. Way to start 2026\u2019s first post, Bridgette. But in all seriousness\u2014with some humor\u2014everything will be okay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So, it wasn\u2019t the cinematic kind of cry with swelling music or dramatic timing. Just tears spilling out because my stepdaughter told me something simple: her therapist said I\u2019m really on top of things\u2026 and that I really am pretty amazing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wasn\u2019t prepared for how hard that hit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It wasn\u2019t praise from someone who loves me and has<\/em> to believe that. It wasn\u2019t framed as bragging or defending me. It was neutral. Observational. Someone seeing me without context, obligation, or emotional attachment. And apparently, that\u2019s something I really needed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When I spiral emotionally, I\u2019ve realized it\u2019s usually grief. A quiet kind. The kind that shows up as loneliness, even when you\u2019re surrounded by people. I am incredibly grateful to be a stay-at-home mom. I don\u2019t take that lightly. I\u2019ve been given the chance to really sink into my creative side and explore what work I want to return to when this season ends.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But there is also a very isolating part of being a SAHM in your mid-40s, navigating perimenopause, emotional labor, and the constant awareness of everyone else\u2019s needs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I am always aware. Always anticipating. I know routines. I know habits. I am watchful, curious, and deeply empathetic to the many nuances my girls carry as children of divorce. I am grateful Evelyn won\u2019t have to experience that. I am determined to continue growing in my marriage\u2014even when I am exhausted and feel incredibly alone inside it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There is no love like a mother\u2019s. And when I feel lost, unseen, or unheard, I want mine the most.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I want the hug she would give me after asking, \u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d and I say \u201cNothing,\u201d and she gives me that look that says, don\u2019t bullshit me<\/em>, and I break. I want the space to exist as myself without being needed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019ve always told my girls that it\u2019s better to be needed because you\u2019re loved, rather than loved because you\u2019re needed. Lately, I\u2019ve realized how heavy that distinction can feel when you\u2019re the one who is always needed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The last couple of weeks quietly compiled. I was really looking forward to my solo therapy appointment when it was canceled last minute and pushed out two weeks. I realized the next time I\u2019d talk would be in couples therapy, and I wasn\u2019t ready to process everything out loud without first making room for my own thoughts\u2014without my feelings being filtered through someone else\u2019s interpretation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I don\u2019t know if it\u2019s age or hormones, but I feel myself wanting to remove the filter. Not to be blunt, abrasive, or brash\u2014simply to exist clearly as myself. To trust my intentions. To see myself as a whole person. Being tuned into all the feelings, all the time, is just\u2026 a lot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That night, after shoveling snow, I gave Evelyn way too much whipped cream. We all had a squirt from the can. She drank her hot chocolate from my Grinch mug. Nick ran one of the girls out for New Year\u2019s Eve plans. Emily stayed back with me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I put on Florence & the Machine\u2019s Delilah<\/em> (because of course I did). Evelyn and I danced in the kitchen. She grabbed Emily and yelled, \u201cEminy! Eminy! Come dance with us!\u201d Emily strolled in, smiling, watching us. I realized she was probably seeing a memory\u2014me dancing with her and her sisters years ago. Different song. Same energy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We were laughing when Evelyn suddenly stopped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That burp. I scooped her up just in time to hold her over the sink before she projectile vomited slightly digested whipped cream and hot chocolate. As I cleaned her up, she calmly said, \u201cSometimes that happens, but it\u2019s okay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Same, girl. Same.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rewind back to the crying part of my day. I had cried in front of one of my girls and immediately felt foolish. I\u2019m the steady one. The safe space. My feelings aren\u2019t supposed to spill over. But those tears came fast and easily\u2014which told me I needed them. She reassured me that sometimes it\u2019s necessary. A good reset. Especially for my sinuses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She was right. I felt lighter. The weekend slowed after the holidays. We adjusted naps, routines, boundaries. Nick and I talked. I processed. We ended the weekend by the fire pit\u2014music, conversation, chicken wing dip, catching our breath as it lightly snowed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n This is also where I should mention that Finn\u2019s new chew toy from BARK!\u2014a lobster\u2014looks alarmingly<\/em> like a penis when flipped upside down. I don\u2019t know if someone should be fired or high-fived for that design choice, but either way\u2026 bold move, BARK. Bold move. Marisa say’s high five by the way!<\/p>\n\n\n\n And that\u2019s when it hit me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Life\u2014especially motherhood\u2014is the chips vs. dip problem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n You know it. You order spinach artichoke dip or chips and salsa, and one always runs out before the other. You want more of one to finish the other, but that option never exists in equal parts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was loading chicken wing dip onto celery when I realized that\u2019s exactly what life feels like. Too much dip, not enough chip. Too much responsibility, not enough rest. Too much love, not enough space. Too much joy, not enough time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Every reel, article, or horoscope talks about balance. Presence. Letting go of control. The #1 movie when I turned ten was Kindergarten Cop<\/em>, so apparently 2026 will be loud, emotional, exhausting, and involve a tiny human. Checks out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But the chips vs. dip problem isn\u2019t just motherhood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Relationships are the chips vs. dip problem too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Someone is always giving a little more. Sometimes it\u2019s 60\/40. Sometimes it\u2019s 80\/20. Sometimes one person is just trying to survive while the other is carrying the weight. And sometimes\u2014if you\u2019re lucky\u2014it\u2019s 50\/50, and when it is, it feels amazing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The problem isn\u2019t that it\u2019s rarely 50\/50. The problem is pretending it should be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Relationships aren\u2019t static. They shift with seasons, stress, grief, hormones, illness, exhaustion, and growth. Sometimes one person has more chips and the other has more dip. When things are healthy, you notice. You adjust. You don\u2019t keep scooping until someone is left with nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n What becomes exhausting is when one person is always compensating. Always stretching. Always noticing the imbalance and quietly fixing it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And this is where effort comes in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Effort is the part of the chips vs. dip problem people like to skip over because it feels uncomfortable to name. It\u2019s not about money. It\u2019s not about intention. It\u2019s about follow-through.<\/p>\n\n\n\n If a gift is sitting forty minutes away and needs to be mailed because no one wanted to make the trip, that\u2019s not a neutral decision. That\u2019s effort\u2014or the lack of it\u2014showing up in real time. Especially when it involves a toddler, a schedule, and the emotional weight of making something happen<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sometimes the imbalance isn\u2019t loud. It doesn\u2019t come with an argument. It comes with quiet decisions that land on the same person again and again. The planning. The driving. The adjusting. The figuring it out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And the thing is, effort doesn\u2019t need to be grand. It doesn\u2019t need to be dramatic. But it does need to be visible. Because when effort consistently flows in one direction, so does exhaustion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This isn\u2019t about keeping score. It\u2019s about acknowledging reality. If one person is always making the trip, always rearranging the day, always absorbing the inconvenience, then the ratio is off\u2014even if no one meant for it to be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Effort is one of the clearest indicators of balance. Not words. Not promises. Not \u201cI would have if\u2026\u201d Just action.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And when effort is shared\u2014when someone shows up without being asked, when they take the longer route so you don\u2019t have to\u2014it feels like that rare moment when the chips and dip finally match.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That\u2019s where resentment starts. Not because someone is failing\u2014but because no one is naming the ratio.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Balance doesn\u2019t mean equal effort all the time. It means awareness. Communication. Saying I\u2019m running low on chips<\/em> without guilt. Asking for more dip when you need it\u2014and giving it when you can.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Here\u2019s the word again: consideration<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When relationships are working well, they feel like that rare, perfect bite\u2014where the chip doesn\u2019t break, the dip doesn\u2019t overpower, and nothing runs out too soon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I checked my 2026 horoscope out of curiosity. It said this isn\u2019t a year for reinvention or chasing momentum that doesn\u2019t fit the season I\u2019m in. It\u2019s about depth. Sustainability. Using my voice honestly. Consistency without burnout. Fewer ideas, deeper writing. Showing up\u2014not louder or faster, just truer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Which tracks\u2014because earlier that week I chased a coffee that did not<\/em> love me back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019ve been craving a raspberry white mocha ever since Nick mentioned Planet Oat had a limited-edition creamer. Spoiler alert: I can\u2019t find it anywhere. So after therapy, I tried to recreate the vibe at Dunkin\u2019. I ordered an oat milk latte with mocha swirl and raspberry flavor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n What I got tasted like\u2026 warm oat milk. That\u2019s it. No mocha. No raspberry. Just disappointment in a cup. Just like that I realized something important right there in that drive-thru: I\u2019m done spending time, money, or energy on things that aren\u2019t what I\u2019m actually seeking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I don\u2019t eat donuts. I don\u2019t chase empty coffee promises. And I don\u2019t want relationships, routines, or rhythms that leave me depleted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And before I end this, I need to ask one last thing\u2014mostly for my witchy women, and also for the ones quietly watching my stories pretending they\u2019re not intrigued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s a theory that water left under the light of a full moon absorbs its energy. Emotional clarity. Renewal. Release. Intuition. Manifestation. All that good, mystical, moon-charged stuff.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Here\u2019s my question: Snow is water. So\u2026 does eating snow count? What about chewing icicles? Is that technically moon water? Or am I just cold, tired, and looking for a loophole into some cosmic reset?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Asking for a friend. <\/p>\n\n\n\n If it does count, then the icicle Evelyn and I shared definitely did the work\u2014and honestly, I\u2019ll take the win. \ud83d\ude09<\/p>\n\n\n\n If not, here I am. Post-holiday. Still tired. Still showing up. Still learning that sometimes things spill over. Sometimes you cry in your car. Sometimes the chips run out before the dip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And sometimes\u2026 that\u2019s okay.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Last week was New Year\u2019s Eve, and I cried in my car. Way to start 2026\u2019s first post, Bridgette. But in all seriousness\u2014with some humor\u2014everything will be okay. 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Just tears spilling out because my stepdaughter told me something simple: her therapist […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-302","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-life-lately"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/302","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=302"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/302\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":304,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/302\/revisions\/304"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=302"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=302"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stillmeinhere.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=302"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
The wet one.
The warning shot had been fired.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Probably how Evelyn felt after her chocolate explosion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n