Category: inspiration
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Lordy, lordy!
I never dreamed I’d see adulthood, and I certainly didn’t expect to turn 40. But here we are! Tomorrow I’ll celebrate—truly and joyously—turning 40 years old. And I’ll do it in a society that largely frowns upon aging—and definitely frowns upon frown lines. (Frown. What a weird word.)
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Mind your Ps and Js
This weekend, I walked the dogs in my llama pajama pants, which is one of my new favorite activities. I used to change into more presentable pants to save face in front of the cars that might pass by as I walked, but that chapter of my life has closed. And, BOY, is it a…
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Marked Safe from Water Aerobics
When I joined the Y last year, I was most excited about the pool. I hoped to relive my swim team days, but I also wanted to try out water aerobics as I rehabbed my leg post-Rollerblading Incident of 2024. My ability to get in the water was first postponed by [another] leg surgery, then…
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Let love win
I’ve started to write countless posts this week—in my head, on my phone, on the computer. But every time I try to put my thoughts into words, it feels insufficient. Plus, no matter how I phrase things, I fear I might add to the growing sense of division, which is basically the antithesis of why…
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Catch me if I can
Each morning, I fill a mug with water and microwave it for my soon-to-be peppermint tea. As the water heats, I gather my nebulized meds. I move my therapy vest to my location of choice—lately in front of the fireplace. I grab my journal and a pen, then head back to the kitchen to prepare…
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Decisions, Decisions
“I make good decisions,” I announced yesterday, surprised as the words left my mouth. I often categorize myself as indecisive, so I was taken aback by my own declaration. When I truly analyze the past, few bad decisions come to mind—except purchasing rollerblades from Amazon. I don’t think I make choices that leave people asking,…
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2.0.2.6
Welcome to 2026! If you know me, you know I loooove me some goal setting, some personal development, some psychoanalysis. The feeling of a fresh start excites me. Many nights (since coming off Trikafta), I go to sleep giddy about waking up the next morning—excited about what the day will hold. I love sleeping, but…
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Pole dancing
A haiku:Drip drip drip all dayAlways dancing with the polePoison in my veins The countdown is on! I finish up IV antibiotics tomorrow, and right now it feels like I’ve never wanted something so badly in my life. Mainly I’m eager to get back to my normal sleep schedule—and ditch these side effects that make…
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Week 3: Simple September
I’m here with another Simple September recap. My biggest victory over the past week has been following my gut. Because of this, I was less sterotypically productive (i.e., working hard, making money) and a lot more that-book-is-really-calling-to-me-and-I-shall-answer productive (i.e., soul-level fulfillment). Some bigger things are happening this week, so check Instagram for the daily recap.…
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Week 1: Simple September
Here’s what went down during the first week of Simple September. Highlights include fun socks, cozy naps, and threats of hospitalization. Dun dun dun… 💜Keep up daily on Instagram!💜
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Somewhere near-ish to the rainbow
A week ago today, John and I walked out of a sushi restaurant and found ourselves under a rainbow. I can’t remember the last time I saw one, and my heart brimmed with love at the sight of it—a welcomed giddiness. I thought of Ramón, yes, but I was equally mesmerized because I’d just arrived…
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Azale-yeah!
As I sneezed my way through the yard a few weeks ago, I stopped to admire these white azaleas. On a shrub of nearly identical white blooms, one flower said, “No thank you,” and showed up with a fuchsia stripe. Do the damn thing! I see you.
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My naked wrist
When I woke up yesterday, my Fitbit wasn’t working. (Yes, I’m still on Team Fitbit.) The screen was black, but I knew I’d charged it recently. I started repeatedly flipping my wrist over, hoping the screen would light up. Then I moved into the phase where I tapped the screen harder and harder, hoping my…
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Massage musings
A few weeks ago, as I drove to get a massage, I rehearsed what I’d tell the massage therapist. I knew I wanted the full sixty minutes devoted to my back and shoulders—no need for any of that limb nonsense. I was ready to articulate my wants and design the massage of my dreams.
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Leg lamentations
“Recovery will take between four and six months,” the surgeon said as I lay in the hospital bed, cast up to my thigh. At first this overwhelmed me, but I remembered I’d always been a quick learner. In school, I easily picked up on new concepts—somewhat annoyingly ahead of the curve. But I neglected to…