homeward bound

My daughter doesn’t have a clue to what’s going on in the world. Which is a great blessing and on the rare occasion a hindrance.

As long as she has her mommy, that’s all she needs to feel safe.

Since birth she’s been a skin-to-skin baby and to this day rubs my arms for comfort. I really wouldn’t have it any other way, because I know at some point she will grow out of it and seek independence.

And now that my husband is home for a week she’s even more content staying home with the two of us.

Me on the other hand, well I’m a different story.

Don’t get me wrong, there is no better place to spend my days. I believe home is something we all are searching for.

Whether its a physical brick and mortar space or a void desperately needing to be filled in our hearts. The special people who enter in and out of our lives help to build and fill those spaces.

A forced entrapment inside my sacred space because of the virus is playing with my psyche. I think about all the where-abouts I would normally travel, some trivial and some incredibly important.

This type of mindfulness is essential in its own right. And I ask myself, Did I really need to keep myself that busy? Was it truly important to go to all of those places?

I’ve narrowed down the activities I miss the most: my in-person therapy, going to the gym, work, preschool, physical interaction with loved ones, wandering aimlessly among other people without a care, etc.

I’m going through withdrawals, but it seems I can live without most of the garbage I was partaking in.

If I’m truly honest though what’s devastating is that I was finally getting into a routine with my new job, therapy, workouts, and family time after a complicated pregnancy.

I was longing for a routine since the girls were born and passed.

But grief has a mind of it’s own.

It’s always at the forefront of my brain, reminding me of what happened and what never could be.

Weighing me down so much that it was more difficult than I could ever imagine to go back to work. Causing me to quit several jobs.

My home was my safe haven away from people. But staying there isn’t always good for me, I enjoy small bursts of human interaction and driving to my destination with music blaring.

And yet more forces out of my control have kept me homeward bound.

My husband’s dislocated knee in November took over three months to mostly heal and left little to zero options to leave without substantial pain.

And now this terrible virus.

But I will prevail.

I have to remind myself that I can adapt to change and create a hybrid temporary routine. All the while enjoying the surplus amount of time I generously received to help my family members in need (6 ft apart of course) and with my daughter and husband.

There are worse places I could be stuck at than the comfort of my own home.

Join me on my path back to hope~

simple math

To combat the sometimes all-consuming feeling of uncertainty, I try to focus on the silver lining of the situation. The “positives” and slivers of hope that glide into focus from my peripheral.

In the moment though, when my anxiety starts to creep into my awareness leaving my thoughts irrational, the silver lining goes out the window.

A week has passed since the quarantine and let me tell you I’ve hit all the lows and I know all the highs are in my future.

I keep the “lows” hidden away inside my brain, because I know that most of my worries are fleeting and can change and mutate daily.

And being down and constantly worrying is not my style; its not who I am. That person manifests because of my anxiety.

That’s one of the reasons I don’t post very often on social media. If I do its something really meaningful or funny that probably won’t change because of how I was feeling that day.

Never put anything in writing is what they say, and I take that to heart.

This blog is a different story though, to be picked apart and judged at will.

But my vulnerability and openness is important for my healing process and if that helps just one person in a moment of need, then I have done what I have set out to do.

Its simple math: all of the negative swirling in our hearts and around the world will equal out a positive at the end of the equation.

We will all get through this, and we will be a better species because of it.

In our darkest hour we are able to shine the brightest.

Now’s the time to spread a little hope~

PS: To all the souls who’s jobs and careers are considered essential to the well being of others in a global pandemic such as this, I thank you. I appreciate you more than my words could ever say or imagine.

from within

I stick with my gut reaction when something feels wrong.

When I make decisions, I take a step back and assess every angle to make sure I’m making the best choice and can handle the consequences.

When something upsets me, I ask myself am I just taking it personally? Or is the “thing” I’m upset about in the wrong?

With that in mind, I knew at the start of this week that something felt off.

The time change didn’t help. I was looking at the clock on the stove and didn’t know what time it was all day on Sunday. And who knew waking with just an hour difference would be so exhausting.

The minimum day schedule at the school I work at threw off my routine as well, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

The skies poured torrential rain leaving the central coast in a frenzy not knowing how to handle a little rain.

Even without those factors, something was just off.

Like the calm before a storm.

Well, that storm has hit. The coronavirus that has swept over our entire globe and has turned our nation into hysterics, has now hit home for me.

I didn’t take it seriously. I’m incredibly healthy and so are my husband and daughter. What did I have to worry about?

Well, there are consequences to millions upon billions of people turning into a hysterical mob mentality and to a nation not prepared or properly informed.

I did not let myself get caught up in the chaos. But my anxiety reared its ugly head when I realized that I needed to get supplies and groceries for my own family before the mob scavenged everything. I’m talking basic needs, not hoarding.

My anxiety has also unearthed apocalyptic vibes from my subconscious, which is a recurring theme in my nightmares.

Maybe that’s my ultimate fear. The ending of a beautiful existence not fulfilled. An existence not fully experienced.

That’s exactly what gets to me about my girls: two lives not fully experienced.

There are so many uncertainties in my heart, in our country, and around the world, but human decency and remaining calm has to be at the forefront.

Lending strangers and neighbors supplies when in need. Checking-in on the most vulnerable demographics and giving what we can.

Being without my job for the next two weeks is going to be bizarre. I just hope it doesn’t last more than that, financially we just can’t handle me not working my main job.

Time will only tell what the world will look like with most of us not working, playing sports, shopping, or gathering in public in general.

All I know is that staying home might be the best plan at this point. For I could still be a carrier for the virus, and pass it on to the most vulnerable.

To get through this, we all could use a little hope~

leaps across oceans

I was experiencing one of those my-brain-has-turned-to-mush kind of days. Where I was having trouble focusing between my thirty minute “lunch break” between jobs, which is me driving from point A to point B while scarfing down cold pizza or a sandwich.

With my thumbs up music shuffling from my phone into the blue tooth in my car, a song came on that I didn’t know I needed to hear.

The deep archives of the same emo bands I’ve been listening to for well over ten years conjured up a compilation track that isn’t for the faint of heart.

Wonderful emo guttural screams echoed through my speakers on that unusually humid afternoon.

That song helped to clear my mind. To regain my attention and quick wit.

The vocalist screamed when I couldn’t, creating a melody my brain could aimlessly float along with. A song clearly intended for moshing, not reflection.

The song helped me for that day. Vigorous exercise helps me on other days. Talking to my therapist is just wonderful every week. While a bag of Hot Cheetos can work wonders as a guilty pleasure.

I find solace in the little unassuming goods that lift my spirits and calm the storm inside my heart.

I’d rather hurdle leaps across oceans though than constantly taking everything one step at a time. Barging in guns blazing as it were. But I can’t do that right now.

Too much has transpired to try and jump from opening doors in my psyche and dealing with trauma, to then wanting to be completely healed and moving on to the next phase of my life.

Realistically I will never be fully healed and I’m okay with that.

I really love the ultra-jaded, mostly-chill, unapologetic-artist, come-at-me-bro person I’ve morphed into. She’s pretty bad ass.

Most people will never be acquainted with her quiet storm; they would not be able to grasp the infinite complexity of nonconformity and enlightenment.

For my girls have blessed me immeasurably divine gifts that I don’t know could ever be repaid. A mothers guilt of that knowledge is hard to swallow.

Many more light years to go before I sleep, though.

And many more mountains to move.

Sails are set to hope~


Consistentcy with changing my thought processes is probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

Who wouldn’t find this challenging?

Cutting unhealthy habits in the physical as well as the mental realms is not a quick or easy task.

There are some things that cannot be completely wiped off our slates though.

Some things stay with us for the rest of our lives. And that’s ok. The challenge then would be how to learn to live with it.

But what if I didn’t even realize that I had a problem in the first place? It’s like wanting answers but not knowing what questions to ask.

I didn’t realize how toxic some of my thoughts and attitudes really were and how they affected me, and in turn affected others.

My anxiety plays a huge role in how I react as well.

Something has been off about me. I missed one of my sessions with my therapist so hopefully she can help me figure out what’s going on in my


I had every intention, again, to do one entry per week. I started writing this over a week ago but came to a brain dead stand still once I started my new position at work.

Starting something new, especially while dealing with my grief, was going to be challenging. I knew that.

But the gravity of getting into a new routine, meeting new people, and constantly being stimulated by said people weighed heavy on my anxiety levels.

Every day after my shift I could feel my brain turn into moosh. Especially the days where I had to work both my jobs. Calm and collected in the morning; perky and energetic in the afternoon.

There’s a level of fakeness I have to present to others. Placing a mask over my face on a regular basis, like most people do.

I wear it so often that I either don’t know how to be myself anymore, or I hope the mask becomes real.

Take anxiety for example. I can feel the worry of uncertainty building in my chest, my thoughts start racing, uncontrollable sweats, breath becomes shallow.

So I take out my mask. Tell myself I’m going to be ok. Take deeper breaths with my diaphram and not my chest. Focus my thoughts on the people who need me. My job requires me to be calm.

One of my super powers is anticipating the needs of others. Unfortunately I have ignored my own needs for most of my life. But that’s another story I’m not going to get into.

So for now I’ll just wear the mask. Getting a handle on my anxiety will just take time, because I’ve learned recently that it will never go away.

And if my writing is any indication of what my brain is like then I am doomed because this entire entry feels scattered.

Join me on my path back to hope~