saturday morning coffee…

On a Saturday morning back in February, I met my friend, Ali, for coffee. These weekend coffee dates had become a wonderful timeout from real life. For a couple hours, I could venture out into the world (just down the street, but still) as an individual person.

I didn’t have to struggle with getting a kid, or four, in and out of the car. I could just pull into a parking space and get myself out of the car; it was a lightness that I rarely felt anymore.

Our conversation that day spanned many topicsโ€”from plants to how much our time is worth to how our mindsets shift as we move through life.

Somewhere in the middle of our conversation, I had an epiphany. And then sometime after that, I forgot what it was. (This is why we can’t have nice things.)

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circle the drain… (pt. three)

I realized that I was so deeply unhappy with myself that I couldn’t even look in the mirror. If I did happen to catch a glimpse of my reflection, I didn’t recognize the person staring back. I pretended not to care about my appearance after awhile, citing “#thatquarantinelife” and “#workingfromhomewithababyatoddlerapreteenandateenlife.” Though these are legitimate stressors, they are also excuses. BS excuses.

Sure, times are hard and you don’t have to be perfect, but when you start to feel disgusting in your own skin (and there’s something you can do about it, but you just don’t), there is something wrong. In my particular case, there was no one to blame but myself.

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