I’m struggling. I don’t want to be dramatic. I have shed that skin, to an older more mature version of myself. Still the same insecure, sad, and frustrated version of myself. I couldn’t write in November, though I tell a dozen stories every day to my kiddos, to myself, to my students.
my heart and eyes are heavy.
I’m back on medication for Diabetes, even though I’m working out more consistently and eating more healthily. Practicing self-care. Practicing gratitude. Putting out what I want to get back from the universe, heartfelt, vulnerable, honest.
The world around me is falling apart. Houses are going up for sale. Families are hungry. The earth, sky, and water are being poisoned by secret back-room deals and a lack of give a damn.
I thought I was going to be able to go somewhere positive with this entry, but nope