When something fucked up or trying happens, the first thing that one will typically do is to replay every aspect of the crisis, including the environment that the incident occurred in. And, if you’re anything like me, staying to make more memories in said space, requires you to change every single fucking detail. Down to the curtains that cover the damn windows you looked through coincidentally, that one time.

I’m metaphorically washing out anything left of “the old us” and welcoming in a completely new slate for our bedroom. The place that we, as a couple and as a family, go to retreat after an average day. A theater when the kids want a movie night. A sanctuary to meditate or pray or to sit in silence when we’re sad. And our love shack when the grownups want to feel sexy. To achieve this, I need a certain level and type of Hygge to be able to get all of these functions out of the small room.

I’m knee-deep in clutter, but the storm outside helps with motivating me along. Jesus Christ! I don’t even want to monitor my online banking…

When I feel the peace radiating around me, it’s all going to be worth it. I know that. You know that. We all know that! Bahaha… The reasons us SAHM come up with to justify the things that we do. To be continued, obviously.

I wasn’t always convinced of the chakra postulation, but after marking that the last three weeks were actually affecting my health, I started to grasp that these points of energy were pulsating in sync with the mindset that I was in. I took note of where these particular locations were on my body, and unforeseen, they were aligned with the seven chakra points! My Root, Sacral, and Heart chakras are in shambles, but my Throat is when it begins to go accurate and ironically, my Third Eye and Crown chakras are healthy. Its almost midnight and I’m drinking coffee. My personal problem is enjoying “me time” late at night.

With three toddlers on or around us always, it is smart to grab the quiet downtime when it’s available! No judgments on my bedtime! It’s noon somewhere! 😉

Any fucking who…

We had frozen stuffed cheese tortellini for supper. Bagged garlic bread. A jar of five cheese sauce. Practically, Olive fucking Garden.

Six years is a very long, but very short relationship. I don’t want to continue another second advancing with this man with a reservation in my head or heart, and pledging to myself to let him in completely and entirely and without fear. Just to love with a grateful and gentle spirit. I have always been so sharp-tongued and disorderly. The intention is to be more silent. More tranquil. To use my labyrinths more and my lips less.

To be a more at sympathetic Mother. I really see and apprehend the lesson that my 33rd year divided, and I’m welcoming 34 with a humbled heart. Intent and Silent. It’s a new idea that I’m venturing… instead of veering away from my emotions with rage.

It’s not like I have reliable, mature engaged parents to buck these ideas off of so bare with me guys! I literally discover as I go.

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