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Vacation Hangover: A Cautionary Tale of Sunscreen, Mai Tais, and Sad Reality

You know that glorious, giddy feeling when you’re heading out on vacation? That “I’m about to become a new person who doesn’t answer emails and feels completely free of life” kind of energy? Yeah. That person is gone now. She was radiant. She had SPF in her soul. She believed in naps and mid-morning cocktails because it’s always 5 o’clock somewhere.

Now? I am a shell of a human who walks around the house spraying the hotels signature scent hoping all the amenities are in that little bottle.

I have a vacation hangover—and no, I’m not just talking about the lingering effects of drinking obnoxiously strong Mai Tais that came with pineapple on the rim and flowers in the drink. I mean the full-body grief that sets in when you trade paradise for your inbox.

Symptoms include:

Trying to greet your boss in the office with a “mahalo” and a shaka sign.
Checking your suitcase to see if sand and happiness are somehow still in there.
Wondering why no one brought you a piña colada at 10am. Again.

I had big plans, people. I was going to bring vacation-me home. She was going to cook more, stress less, and somehow figure out how to infuse paradise into her everyday life. She was going to Marie Kondo her life. She was going to do all the things on her list and live every day like it was a cruise buffet breakfast.

Instead, I came home and immediately fell face first into month end at work and a folder with 100 invoices to be entered.

The worst part is how fast it happens. One minute you’re floating in a pool with no idea what day it is. The next, you’re in traffic being tailgated and cut off by an idiot who wants to exit from the left lane at 75 mph.

I unpacked my suitcase and found:

Three swimsuits
A full bag of laundry
And my dignity – still on vacation apparently

Here’s the thing: I love traveling. I love escaping. But re-entry into regular life should come with some kind of emotional parachute. Maybe a transitional period where I still get breakfast buffets and someone else makes my bed while I sob softly into a beach towel.

I’ve considered writing a letter to my vacation destination. Something like:

Dear Paradise, I miss you. I miss waking up to the sound of waves instead of construction in my neighborhood. I miss tan lines and fruity drinks. I miss housekeeping. Take me back…please? I can change. But until teleportation becomes a thing, I’ll just be here. Drinking sad weak rum and cokes. Scrolling back through vacation pictures every five minutes looking for that feeling. Searching for flights I can’t afford.

And maybe… just maybe… shaking the sand out of my shoes and smiling a little. Because even though the vacation is over, the stories, and the glow? Those stay with me.

Forever. Or at least until the next trip.

Lesson Learned: Next time, schedule an extra day off after you get back. Or just move to the beach and open a hammock store. Either way.

Blessings Y’all – Amy

Lessons to Learn From Sea Turtles

Let’s be real—if there’s any creature on Earth that knows how to vibe, it’s the sea turtle. These chill, flippered dudes have been cruising the oceans, minding their own business, gliding through the gorgeous waters like they’re late for absolutely nothing. And maybe that’s the first lesson the sea turtle has for me: Relax. You’ll get there. (I have a hard time with that one sometimes!) But beyond their perpetually unbothered expressions and graceful moves, I’ve found that sea turtles carry a surprising amount of symbolic swag.

Ever feel like the world is in a rush and you’re the only one not moving at lightning speed? Definitely—especially on my commute every day! I’ve come to appreciate that turtles are the poster children for “slow and steady wins the race.” I mean, they literally starred in that fable with the hare. (Okay, fine—it was a land turtle, but same energy.)

Lesson learned: Sea turtles remind me that life isn’t a sprint. It’s a long, winding, saltwater-drenched journey. I try to pace myself, breathe, and take snack breaks.

Sea turtles hatch on a beach, immediately dodge a buffet of hungry predators, then swim thousands of miles… only to return years later to the exact same beach to lay their own eggs. GPS? Magic? Sea turtle sorcery? Who knows. But I think it’s pretty impressive.

Lesson learned: I’m learning to trust my instincts. Even when I feel totally lost, I like to believe there’s a little sea turtle inside me that knows the way home. (And by “home,” I mean wherever I feel most like myself—especially if that’s a white sandy beach surrounded by turquoise waters.)

That shell? It’s not just fashionable—it’s functional. It’s protection, armor, and a mobile home all in one. Sea turtles don’t carry stress. They carry boundaries. And I’m trying to do the same.

Lesson learned: It’s okay to go inward sometimes. I’ve learned to withdraw, recharge, and protect my peace when I need to. My shell = my safe space. (And yes, I fully support decorating it with stickers.)

Some sea turtles live to be over 100 years old. That’s a lot of wisdom tucked behind those sleepy eyes. In many cultures, they represent ancient knowledge, patience, and those cosmic, chill-grandparent vibes. I mean, if anyone’s got it figured out, it’s a sea turtle.

Lesson learned: I try not to underestimate my quiet wisdom. I’m learning to speak when it matters, observe more than I react, and if someone asks me for advice, I offer a knowing head nod and my best Dory-inspired: “Just keep swimming.”

Let’s be honest—if I could be reincarnated as anything, a sea turtle would be top-tier. Living at the beach, eating jellyfish like noodles, napping in coral coves, and wearing a permanent smile? That’s the dream.

Lesson learned: I try to embrace my inner beach bum. Life’s way too short to forget sunscreen or stress about tides I can’t control. So I remind myself to ride the waves. Float a little. And also remind myself: be a sea turtle in a sea of jellyfish.

So the next time I feel overwhelmed by the pace of life, I picture a sea turtle. Unbothered. Smooth. Unhurried. Full of ancient wisdom and absolutely zero regrets. They’re my spirit animal when I need to slow down, reconnect, or just float through life with a bit more grace—and a lot more fun. And I try to remember: the sea turtle doesn’t rush… but it always arrives.

Now go forth, and turtle on. Blessings y’all – Amy

Hawaii Stole My Heart

From the sun-kissed sand that sparkles both onshore and beneath the waves, to the breathtaking sunrises and sunsets—and every unforgettable moment in between—I’m pretty sure I left a piece of my soul in Hawaii. I honestly can’t remember ever falling so completely in love with a place. There were a few moments when I think Tim wasn’t entirely sure he’d get me on the plane to come home! Truth be told, I seriously considered finding a local realtor while we were there. I may have just discovered my retirement destination. I’m fairly confident Tim and I could work out a schedule like the whales—summers in Alaska, and the rest of the year in paradise.

We stayed at the Royal Hawaiian in Waikiki, and for our first trip, it was absolutely perfect. Everything was within walking distance, and there was never a shortage of things to do. That said, I think next time we might opt for somewhere a bit more remote—maybe the North Shore—for a different pace and feel. We had intentionally left some gaps in our itinerary so we could go with the flow when the mood struck, but we also made sure to plan a few dedicated beach days, even going so far as to pre-rent umbrellas in the hotel’s reserved beach section.

I think the days I spent playing in the water were probably my favorite—though the day our private guide took us to a hidden local beach might top the list. That’s where I sat and watched my beloved sea turtles until Tim finally made us leave because I was burning in the sun. You all know I’ve always been obsessed with sea turtles, but seeing them in their natural habitat was absolutely magical. Watching them effortlessly move with the ocean’s rhythm—their sheer size, their grace—it took my breath away. That moment is forever etched in my memory. Honestly, I think we could all learn a thing or two from sea turtles about how to roll with the waves of life.

I’ve never really been one to spend much time playing in the sand and surf, even with my lifelong love for the ocean. In the back of my mind, I’m always aware that I’m not a strong swimmer—and just how powerful the ocean really is. But the water at our hotel was something else. I could walk way out and still only be in water up to my hips. The ocean was, of course, salty—I told Tim I needed a margarita to go with all that salt while we were splashing around—but it was so incredibly clear. And in the afternoons, when the sand got stirred up, it sparkled beneath the surface like glitter. Absolute magic.

View from the water looking back at our hotel

Of course, we met some truly kind souls at the hotel bar—because you know me, I never go anywhere without picking up a new friend or two. Despite the volume of guests they serve every day, each of the bartenders made us feel genuinely welcome and right at home. I also discovered that Mai Tais aren’t really my thing… but a blended coconut mojito? Absolutely my jam. And definitely a certified nap inducer!

I had some fish tacos that were surprisingly delicious—especially considering how far we were from the South—and I’m pretty sure I ate my weight in pineapple over the course of the week. I’ve never had pineapple that good in my life. It got to the point where I was asking for a plate of it as my breakfast side every morning. And funnily enough, despite eating and drinking whatever I wanted, I came home a few pounds lighter. Tim says it’s because we were so active… but I think it’s more likely my body was just in its happy place. LOL.

Tim’s promised we’ll go back—and soon—but for now, I’m content to channel a little Hawaiian magic into some corner of the house and keep dreaming about the day we return. If you haven’t been yet, do yourself a favor: book the plane ticket. It’s truly a magical place.

Blessings y’all – Amy

At The Intersection of Joy & Grief

I made a decision about a month or so ago that I was slowly going to come off the anti-depressants I’ve been on since PawPaw died. That we maxed out after Fred died and had to change completely during COVID because they weren’t working. I’ve reached a chapter in my life where I have such a strong support system and I’ve done so much work in counseling I felt like it was time.

But it’s that time of year again. The month or so I spend holding my breath each day as I open TimeHop and each time I talk to my kids. The memories of him that are in my oldest daughter’s smile, in my son’s laugh, or in my youngest daughter’s tender heart. The anniversary of Fred’s passing is today and, as this new season of my life progresses, the time of year I am so besieged with emotions I can barely sort them.

Guilt is constant because I have found joy again. I wouldn’t ever want the kids to think I’ve forgotten the life we had with their dad. Yet I made a promise to Fred that I wouldn’t be sad too long and that I would marry again. Grief because no matter what I still miss him. Confusion over missing him when I have a man in my life now that loves me to a depth that is indescribable. Sadness because he’s missing out on momentous occasions in my children’s lives. Our first grandchild will make an appearance in September and I know his presence will be missed even more than it already is.

I know that it’s been long enough since he’s been gone that most days I choose joy. I choose to thank God each morning when I do my prayers for the life I have now and the blessings he’s given me. On days like today I feel like I’m standing at an intersection of joy and grief and while I know I need to choose joy more today than any other day the sadness of grief is so deep it’s hard not to give in to it.

Trying to focus on joy I think back to that last “perfect” Lanford Saturday we shared with Fred. It was May 20, 2017 and Fred had been home from the hospital for about a month. It was one of those days where none of us could sit still and were so joyous from having gotten Fred through rehab and home that we just wanted to be out in the world. It was still spring and the weather was gorgeous. We spend the day doing some of our most favorite things. We went to Grapevine and had wine and snacks on Main Street. It was Main Street days in downtown Grapevine and we wandered around different booths for quite a while. The kids each got to have a cast made of their hand holding their dads. Something we didn’t know how very soon would be an irreplaceable treasure from the day. We finished in Grapevine around 3 pm and by 6 pm were back out headed to go see live music at The Truck Yard. With Tigre in tow.

Those are the days I look back on and remember how very much he lived during his time on earth. Those are the days I hope bring a smile to each of my kids when they are sad. And that is the Fred I remember with a heavy heart on the days I am sad. He was a good man. He gave me my family and for that I will forever be grateful.

If you have a favorite Fred memory I’d love to hear it today.

Blessings – Amy

A Little News and a Lot of Anxiety

Twenty plus years ago I was told I had Hashimoto’s. All I remember a the time was being told it was an autoimmune disorder and that I needed to make sure we kept my thyroid levels in balance. Given that I’ve been on thyroid medicine since about four months after Em was born didn’t seem life altering.

What I didn’t know over the ensuing twenty years of fighting to keep my thyroid levels stable through insurance insisting on generic thyroid medicine my body didn’t respond to (and being told I was crazy because I thought that), ups and downs in my levels due to weight gain and loss, hair loss, dry skin, and just general life was that that diagnosis meant my body was attacking itself and slowly killing off my thyroid.

In December of 2022 my company changed insurance companies. What ensued was the gluten free thyroid medicine I had finally gotten stable on for almost five years no longer being an approved medicine. Being shoved onto generic thyroid hormone that sent my body into a cycle of weight gain, hair loss, and general yuck. When Tim and I got married he did the research and we figured out how to go back to the right medicine albeit it of pocket. Though that was fall of 2023 we’ve fought all this time to get my thyroid to stabilize. Finally in February after another off kilter set of labs my GYN said “you have to see an endocrinologist”. Back story there – I hate endocrinologists. Between the fact that they are insanely smart humans usually who don’t know how to relate to you and listen to you when you talk and the one that prescribed Fred medicine and didn’t follow up on him thus leading to his kidney failure I’ve got no patience for them. My GP and GYN have managed my thyroid for years.

I procrastinated until end of February and finally got a referral sent to Tim’s endocrinologist. The ONE I actually like cause he listens to Tim and isn’t a condescending human. We expected it to be months before I could get in and after ten days without a phone call was surprised to finally get one Monday – with an opening the next day. Still calling that a God thing.

Dr. Burney walked in, sat down, and said tell me what’s up with your thyroid. IMMEDIATELY went to food…doctors don’t do that…and explained that Hashi’s patients can’t eat gluten. It inflames the gut and limits the absorption of the medicine. Do you know how many other docs had dismissed my saying I noticed a difference when I didn’t eat gluten even though I was negative for Celiac???

First change he made was saying from here on out it’s a strict gluten free diet. Also an unprocessed chemical free (whole foods) as much as possible. Hashi’s patients bodies attack foreign stuff and get inflamed and that prevents absorption of the medicine. Next up is continuing with getting some more of the weight off. The goal is to get me to ONE pill a day of the thyroid medicine so that if I’m going to pay for it out of pocket it’s not three boxes every six weeks to the tune of $185.

Then he took a look at my thyroid. It’s dead and gone. Shriveled up and fibrotic. The out of control Hashi’s has done its thing and I’ll be on the hormone therapy the rest of my life. As it has sunk it that how I feel will be a direct correlation to how I take care of myself for the rest of my life the more overwhelmed I’ve felt. Those close to me can tell you – the one thing I am worst at is taking care of me. And there is something different between choosing gluten free and being told it’s not an option anymore. As much as we travel it makes it a challenge.

I’m still exhausted, still have very little energy, and that’s as much mental exhaustion as it is physical. I have so much I want to do and right now nothing is cooperating. I am trying to lean into the amazing support that my hubby and kids are being but it’s hard. I am also angry. The ONE thyroid medicine most effective for Hashi’s patients most insurance companies don’t like and thus won’t pay for. To me that’s like saying you won’t pay for insulin for a diabetic. How dare you? Who made them God? It’s maddening.

If anyone with Hashi’s is reading this – your diet is as important as the medicine. You have more control than just the medicine. Take control and keep your thyroid functioning as long as you can.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Medical Madness

I grew up in the medical system. For those that don’t know this about me I was born with a birth defect that meant I had my first corrective surgery at 3 months old and my 50th right before my 18th birthday. There have been a few others since then but the bulk were in my childhood. I’ve depended on doctors and medicine my entire life. Honestly never was taught to question them or their orders.

As I have grown older and run into periods where I suffered consequences of some of those orders I’ve begun to wonder if the doctor is always right. For example when I received the COVID vaccine and subsequently suffered through 3 months of full body hives that the doctors swore couldn’t possibly be a side effect of the vaccine I was itchy, angry, and pretty sure the medical community was full of morons.

I find myself sort of here again. My middle child and his wife question EVERYTHING. As I ask questions and find myself dissatisfied with the side effects of multiple rounds of antibiotics and steroids I grow increasingly more curious about their perspective on things. And how to balance that with conditions I have like Hashimoto’s and hypothyroidism. And dysfunctional ears and sinuses that periodically, like now, just flat refuse to cooperate.

I left on vacation with an ear infection. My second in a month. Though I completed a full ten day round of antibiotics while on my trip I came back with a double middle ear infection, RSV, and a sinus infection. Was put on a different round of antibiotics when I got home, given a steroid shot, and oral steroids. The antibiotics have upset my gut. The oral steroids keep me up at night and make me angry at everything and everyone. I’m sleep deprived and cranky. By now I should be getting better but woke up with the room spinning. Like WTF.

Where is that line that we trust doctors or we say nope this isn’t working and I have to try something else? How does someone like me with all kinds of complications wean myself off of depending on doctors? One of the things pressing on my mind is the shingles vaccine. I’m not quite at the age for it yet but I had HORRIBLE chicken pox as a kid and I’m a prime candidate for shingles. But after the reaction I had to the last vaccine I let someone put in me why on earth would I sign up for another? But I know from seeing people around me go through shingles that those can be excruciating too. Which is worse?

And even if I did figure any of it out and think I have a plan then the damn insurance company would weigh in and say NOPE you can’t have that drug. Perfect example is my thyroid medicine. I was stable on one drug for over five years. But my insurance changed and they wouldn’t cover it. My body doesn’t respond to the one they do cover and even though we switched me back to the good one by paying out of pocket for it it’s now two years later and we still haven’t gotten my thyroid back under control from having been off it for 9 months. Why the hell does insurance get to dictate what we take if patient and doctor have determined that one medically won’t work?

It’s all madness. Just fiscally driven madness where money is most important and we are secondary. There’s my brain dump for the day. 😉

Blessings y’all. – A

Another Goodbye, A Closing, and A New Year

This one has been bouncing around in my brain the last few weeks and I’ve been trying to sort through so many emotions. Figure I’ll sort it out here like I always do lol. The Irving house finally found its new owners. About a week ago another tumor took our sweet Paris. And inexplicably a new year is upon us.

We signed the papers on the Irving house four years to the day of when I unpacked the last box, hung the last picture, and posted the before and after video of the renovation from moving into Turtle Summit. Funny sometimes how God’s timing works. I’ve been trying to put my mind around the emotions there, cause there are some, but can’t quite get there. When I reflect back on who I was then…man.

Four years ago I was so angry. So tired. So overwhelmed. So afraid. If I dared to crack open one of my prayer journals I can almost promise you those prayers read something like “give me my life back” or “rewind the clock”. My children were leaving home, my husband was gone, and I had absolutely no idea who I was. And quite frankly I was crazy. Out of my mind flipping crazy. I look back on that person and wonder where she came from and thank God every day that he put the right tools and people in my path to get me through.

As I look around today? My list of blessings is as overwhelming as that list of pain and sorrow was. A home I never could have dreamed this small town girl would ever have. A man I adore who loves me beyond measure. A job that challenges me and pushes me to keep growing even when I’d like a minute to breathe.

Last weekend we said goodbye to another of our fur babies. She was older but we weren’t ready. She had a tumor in her ear that they couldn’t promise us wasn’t in her brain. She was in pain and not herself. We kept the promise we made each other not to prolong our babies lives for our own inability to say goodbye. But less than three months after losing Hope it just made the grief hole rip open again. The energy in the house has shifted again and the three remaining girls are tying to find a new rhythm. They are very clingy to us and hate when we leave the house.

Tim and I’s word for 2025 is “intentional”. So often we find ourselves at the end of a week, month, or year having just responded to all that came at us instead of acting intentionally towards our goals. We want to work on the goals we have set and live life on our terms. I think some of that is a result of seeing what we accomplished when we set our mind to it with the house. Not sure. We just know that as we heal from some of what 2024 took from us and embrace some of what it gave us we have big plans.

I am waking up at night with my mind and my heart racing. Anxiety coursing through me that I can’t identify. I thought it was the house. But with that settled not sure what it is. Work is out of control busy so maybe it’s that. But I know that if I turn it over to God and just lift it in prayer it’ll resolve itself in time. Just takes the one thing hardest for me – faith.

What are you reflecting on in as we close out 2024?

—Amy

Reflections on a Holiday Season

Another Christmas Eve is here. As I sit and reflect on how this year’s holiday season has gone I realize progress was made this year. For the first time in years Christmas wasn’t something just to be survived and gotten through!

I’ve spent numerous of the years past turning myself inside out trying to survive the holidays. That or exhausting myself alternating between trying to avoid them wishing away pain and memories or trying to make them perfect. Somehow this year in just letting go it was actually a very enjoyable season.

Did I get Christmas cards out this year? Nope. Get everything on the list of things I wanted to get for people I love? Not even close. Did I find a new favorite Christmas album that I wore out every commute back and forth to work for a month? Yep. (Thank you Cher.) Bake cookies and treats until I was exhausted but happy? Yep.

Tomorrow we are shucking the traditional Christmas menu and replacing it with tamales (brought in through contacts at work) and easy sides. No 5 am turkey shenanigans for me. Short of jumping on a ship I don’t remember another year we’ve dropped traditional Christmas dinner. What’s more? Everyone is pretty darn excited about it!

2024 was a year of huge changes. If you had asked me at this time last year if I’d be living anywhere other than Irving where I’d spent the last 20 years I’d have told you that you were smoking something. But if this year has taught me anything it’s that unlike what life has shown me the last decade or so change can also be good. So I guess it shouldn’t really surprise me that Christmas this year would be different! 🎄

Merry Christmas y’all!

Amy

Another Goodbye is Upon Us

Someone said to me today that pre-grieving is as hard as the grieving can be. While I had never heard the phrase “pre-grieving” it certainly fit. Knowing what’s coming, agonizing on if you are making the right decision, if the time is right, knowing how much it’s going to hurt…it all sucks.

The time has come that we have to say goodbye to Hope. Tomorrow we’ll take her to the vet and send her home to God where she won’t be in pain anymore. While I know she has quite the host of angels waiting to receive her my heart is still breaking.

Hope is the youngest of our babies. If I really dwell on the unfairness of it all that’s the thing that hits me the most. We have three senior citizen dogs and our youngest girl got aggressive non-treatable cancer. Like WTF.

From the day we got her Hope’s role has fit her name. She gave us hope. She came into our life to fill the hole left when we lost Tigre. The kids wouldn’t let me name her Faith or Love from 1 Corinthians 13:13: “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” So I named her Hope.

She has always had human tendencies. She has never been one for just a belly rub. She has to hug you. Both arms around your neck hug you before she is content. She sits up in “her” chair on her butt like a human. She has never ever realized her own size…she’ll crawl into your lap like she is a five pound chihuahua instead of an eighty pound overgrown love mutt. She’ll sneak under the covers in bed with you at night and curl up oh so tight only to run you off the bed spread across half of it in the middle of the night – running in her sleep no less.

I read something recently speculating on what a dogs’ purpose is on this earth. It is to remind us humans that love is supposed to be easy. Unconditional, all consuming, and with the unadulterated joy that comes to a dog when we walk through the door. It’s us humans that make it hard. Dogs like Hope are especially good at their job. All she ever needed was a piece of human food snuck under the table (cherry tomatoes are her favorite!), a hug, a lap to sleep in, or a car ride with her ears flapping and her tongue wagging. Or to wrestle with her sister over who got to get to me first when I walked in the door.

So how do you say goodbye? How do you look into those big brown eyes and tell her it’s ok to let go? That you’ll be ok even when at that moment you aren’t sure you will be? That’s how I will love her the way she has always loved me. Selflessly and deeply. I don’t want her to hurt anymore. I want her to run and roll and play and feel no pain. My heart will carry her with me for the rest of my days. I’ll console her sisters for many many weeks to come – especially Lilah. I’ll bury my face in her blanket and seek comfort from her smell until it fades.

I believe in heaven and I believe with all my heart that the angels who sent her to heal my broken heart after Tigre left us are making ready her place with them. I believe she’ll be free of pain. I am deeply grateful that God made the pieces fall in place on our move to allow her final days to be spent someplace where she had a yard to run and play in and be a dog instead of the way she’s had to live the last four years in the backyard at the other house. I’m grateful for these last core memories of her. More than I can even put into words.

So I’ll sign off now and soak up these last hours of Hope snuggles. Thanks for indulging my rambling. And go grab and extra hug from your own babies for me. Life is precious and it goes too damn fast.

Blessings – Amy

The Ugly Side of Moving

I’ll preface this with I am well aware that I am beyond blessed. The manner in which all the pieces of the current season of life fell into place is nothing short of God’s grace. But for someone with anxiety being in a constant state of chaos has a price.

My sweet husband keeps telling me “it’ll be ok”. Along with “we’ll get there” and “it’s not a race”. What I can’t convey, what I don’t seem to be able to put into words, is that living in constant chaos makes me feel unsafe. I have not one place – at home OR at work – that I can get a deep breath. Ironically the only place that is “normal” right now is my truck….and being in it as much as I have been lately is very not normal.

At work the pressure is unbearable. My own relentless self expectation to not let anyone down who is counting on me on top of what’s flowing downstream because of trying to get an entire office moved left me in my office crying today. When I come home there is something that needs my attention or to be put away every where I turn. Sheer exhaustion means I break, drop, or misplace almost everything I touch. Never mind accuracy at what I’m attempting to process at the office. Tim had to go tonight to work on the old house so it will be ready to be put on the market. In my efforts to get SOMETHING productive done I managed to dent the drywall and break one of my favorite lamps in the space of 30 minutes.

My brain feels like what is left of one of my favorite lamps.

Tim keeps telling me to relax. Trying to explain to him that my mind won’t LET me relax when everywhere I look there is something that needs to be done is a concept that doesn’t register with most people. I know, logically, that moving is probably one of the most stressful things we do as an adult. I have moments where I can catch a glimpse of what life will be like if we ever get to the other side of this mountain. But lack of sleep and being in a constant state of chaos and overwhelmed is robbing some of the joy that I think I should be getting from this. I come across as angry when I know I’m not. It seems to be the only emotion that is coming out with any regularity.

Tim says he can fix the dent in the drywall. And I have another lamp. And work will always just be work. Just wish I could relax, get some more sleep, learn how to leave the piles at work and at home without the doomsday feeling….and most definitely I am never moving again. Ever.

Blessings y’all – Amy