Shoutout to the Pig

Right now I should really be studying for finals, or cleaning since this house is starting to look like squatters have taken over instead of my usually pristine home (Okay, only sometimes pristine home but totally the fault of my unbelievably disorganized spouse and NOT me). Instead of doing either of those things, because procrastination is my best and longest existing friend, I have decided to dedicate a post to my obese dog. I recently realized in my “About Me” section I had promised unfulfilled rants about her and not delivered. So here it goes:

We got our food obsessed canine in March of last year. She was just this fat, tiny American Bully puppy
with blue colored fur and blue eyes. She had an explosive shit in my car on the drive from her breeder’s

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Kilometers to Go

As someone who has logged plenty of hours in therapy I can honestly say I haven’t reached my complete happiness-normal-functioning-human-being mental health destination yet. In fact I don’t know if I’ll ever reach it. To put it in a mediocre phone app metaphor, it’s like I’m Google Maps. I’m in a data dead zone and I have “searching” written on my screen. It’s not that I cannot get there, but I’m not sure how to get where I’m going yet. I’ve plugged in the destination of Normalville and now I wait, twiddling my hands against my steering wheel begging for the directions to load.

Even if I do not know how to get to the place of complete peace, or if such an oasis even exists, there is a bright side to it all. Today I actually have the app open. I am trying, instead of

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Exceptional Handling

One key part of the dysfunction in my life is my frequent bouts of anxiety. It is a demon I have been grappling with since I was a child. I can often see the lack of logic in how I am feeling, I can even play defense attorney for my mind. But no matter how much reason I pump into my brain I am never able to immediately halt the physical and emotional manifestations of my disorder. Part of me wonders if I am supposed to understand it, or if I am simply to go about what I’ve been doing – arguing against and fighting that bitch until the feelings pass. The good news is they will. If there is one thing my anxiety has taught me it is the completely transient nature of emotions.

My relationship with anxiety has been ongoing for years; I do not recall a time she was not present in
my life. She is somehow both apart of my identity and something I run from. A long time

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Soapy Soup and Dirty Pull Ups

This afternoon, as I was potentially burning ready-made chicken noodle soup, my three year started banging on the wall of his room. Like most okay-at -keeping-my-child-alive moms the brief thought of “do I want to know what he’s doing? Or do I want to feign deafness?” crossed my mind. Obviously my mommy senses kicked in, along with my need to prevent whatever reign of destruction was occurring.

I cautiously opened the door to the mayhem was transpiring. Deep brown eyes, with excruciatingly long
eyelashes framing them, looked at me and said “I went kaka mommy.” Which means, in grown up language,

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