I write this note to myself at work after deciding not to pick the fight I’ve been dying all week to pick. I can’t remember where I’ve heard this phrase before - I assume I read it somewhere, or heard it from a teacher. But it pops into my head and seems right.
My mom, aka “Fancy," has been on my mind a lot this week. March 2 marks 5 years (can it be five years??) since she died. During this bleak week of winter, I’m remembering how much she loved the beach and the sun….
Fancy always says that sun, salt water, and salt a...
Note: I found this entry in my Evernote App, written almost 4 years ago. At the risk of making this blog all about my intermittent panic attacks and anxiety, I’m posting it. Because it’s a real thing. And this is real life.