The title of this post is a bit of a misnomer. Just this morning I said, "I'm having a hard time getting it together right now." I'm in one of those periods when showing up is the best I can offer, and I can't even guarantee that. That said, I just popped on here to share that I'm struggling. I'm dealing with a lot of loss right now. Some of it is easy to spot. Some of it I've tucked away because it's either terribly painful or terribly embarrassing--at least to me. Some of it was inevitable. Some of it was a surprise. All of it rises up into the center of my chest and begs me to stop for a moment to acknowledge it. It's doing that right now even as I type this. I'm having a hard time getting it together right now.

 I woke up Tuesday morning with the worst sore throat I can remember having. It was annoying, but the pain started to subside as I was in the middle of my morning routine. I pushed it aside and left for work. On my drive to work, I usually listen to the morning news or talk to a friend on the phone. I was running late that morning, and my friend was already in her office where she has no cell service. The radio was irritating, so I entertained myself as I spent more time tapping the brakes than pressing the gas pedal. By the time I arrived at work, I had a nagging feeling. My cousin is getting married this weekend, and my sister and nephew and I had planned a road trip together. The plan was to leave Thursday morning, drive up to Georgia to see our grandmother and then head over to South Carolina on Friday for the wedding. That meant I would be seeing both of my 90+ year old grandmothers, plus family members with health concerns. A cold was frustrating, but the last thing I wanted ...

Okay, so we're not really in quarantine. In southwest Florida, we're all living under a suggestion to stay off the beaches. Apparently, grocery stores and gas stations are the acceptable gathering places, and I feel like I'm living in central Florida in the 90s all over again when Walmart was the place to be after the bars closed. Because, you know the bars are closed here too. In all fairness, I'm living my dream right now. I'm able to work from home, and I like the flexibility it gives me to balance this work and home life thing. I seriously could get used to this. I like having bites of time in which to complete the small tasks that all too often gang up on me. I feel like I'm doing a better job keeping up with it all. My early morning routine is fairly established. I get up and take the dogs out. While they eat I fill a bucket with some water and toss a handful of clothes in a galvanized steel bucket and let them soak for a few hours. I get myself ready ...

Today I did something I don't normally do. I read the article about a dying dog's last day on Earth that showed up in one of my feeds today. I don't normally read those articles because they make me cry. Then I feel weird. And my mind floods with thoughts of special people in my life who have died and those who are still alive and how I'm going to feel when they and then when I die and what on Earth am I doing with my life because I'm going to die. It's a little exhausting. I've been struggling a lot lately with thoughts about how short life is and calculating how many more years I have left if I make it to certain milestones. I compare this to what feels like the great wasteland of my 20s and 30s. (Seriously, what HAVE I done with my life other than work and navigate difficult marriages?) It's a bit macabre, I know. So I decided to make a concerted effort to find something each day that makes me feel alive or grateful or just happy. I'm not sure...

There's a huge part of me that wants to post a screenshot of my Blogger dashboard just to prove to you that I haven't entirely forgotten my blog. No, really. I've had my fair share of ideas to write about, including what I think are rather insightful pieces about empowering women, mental illness and body issues. I've started them and failed to finish them, usually because I fall asleep mid-post. I fall asleep a lot these days. On the couch. In the rocking chair. Face down on my computer's keyboard. It's a combination of a solid three to four hours of sleep each night, working ten to twelve hour days and a thyroid condition that's wreaking havoc on my body. But anyway. I've recently decided that I need to spend SOME time doing things I enjoy, and I do enjoy writing about my life and how I see the world. That's why I'm taking a break from writing an enchanting piece about kitchen islands to post a quick update in the hope that we can pick up...

This post has been sitting on my computer for the last few weeks. In the wake of this week, the message seems even more appropriate. *** For several months now, the service engine light has been on and off...mostly on. I've taken it to the mechanic several times, and he's pulled the code and checked out all the usual suspects before calling me to pick it up. There have even been a few times that it goes off on its own. And then comes back on. It's a bit of a waiting game, as I'm waiting until someone finally figures out what's going on. I was thinking about the service engine light this morning on the way to work and comparing it to how many times in life we talk about missing the warning signs. It's a convenient response, kind of like, "stay strong" or "she's in a better place now." Those empty words that fill an uncomfortable space and are usually best left unsaid. The truth, which sometimes seems to be messier, is that warning...