Two years.

It's been two years since I lost Momma. Two years since the day I went home on my lunchbreak, walked into my house, and had my life forever altered. I'd be lying if I said that it hasn't been rough.

While there have been happy moments and I've been trying my hardest to get up and go, I often find myself in a state of contemplation. I zone out more often than I care to admit and the fact that certain moments or memories replay in my head is a given. It's like a constant loop in my brain that's forever ongoing.

Frankly, I tend to drive myself a little crazy replaying everything over and over again in my head, wondering what I could have done differently and thinking of all the things in the past that could have changed the outcome.

Sure, I know this is ridiculous, because lord knows you can't change the past, but that fact doesn't stop the wheels from turning and weighing me down. It's involuntary at this point and if I knew how to shut off my brain and stop the wheels in their tracks, I most definitely would.

I try to be happy and content and live my life exactly however I want, but that doesn't stop days like today from encroaching on me and demanding my grief, attention, a piece of my heart and soul.... and mentality.

But, like everyday in my life, I have to figure out how to move forward and pull myself through, because if I simply gave up, I would be a husk of my former self. And if there's one thing that my Momma didn't raise, it was a quitter.

Thirty-one sure does look damn fine on you.... that's right, I said it.

Happy Birthday to quite literally my favorite person in the world. You not only put up with my quirkiness and constant mood swings (maybe a bit of a split personality), but you also fill my life with love, happiness, laughter, and the best hugs that I can imagine. I can’t wait to spend all of our other birthdays, holidays, and every single day in between with you. I love you.

You're the rock in my roll.
You're good for my soul, it's true.
I'm head over boots for you.

We spent the day in our house, surrounded by our pups.... making jalapeno poppers and drinking whiskey. And you know what? I'm not even a little bit sorry about it. Not to mention, I'm pretty sure that our pups really enjoyed those teeny tiny baby cupcakes. 

But, those jalapeno poppers doe!! Yeah, I'm not very good with the whole slang thing. You know this. 

In any event, I hope you had a great birthday and that you got everything your little heart desired. Except a van. I know, I know, you want a van. Look on the bright side, we can always rent for our road trips.

Either way, like I said, I can't wait to spend all of our remaining days together doing random shit, being lazy, going on adventures, raising furchildren, making jokes, celebrating all the little things, and everything else that there possibly is with you.

Best in-laws ever?! ✔️✔️

This year for Christmas, D's parents decided to make us a little something with our new shared name on it. And I have to say, I prefer meaningful gifts. Don't get me wrong, any gift that someone gives you is thoughtful and appreciated, but there's something about someone taking the time to make you something by hand that just has a little more meaning to it. I probably get that from Momma, as she always preferred when we made her presents as opposed to just going to the store to pick it out. She always said it meant more when it came from the heart and I know she was right.

I have just always felt better when my hair is dark. 🖤

Don't ask me why, but I have always felt more like myself with black hair. Sure, my natural color is somewhere between a mouse brown/sandy blonde color, but nothing speaks to my soul quite like black. Black to match my soul, eyeliner, personality and sense of humor.

A couple of years ago, I decided to quit dying my hair. Not because my hair was unhealthy or anything, I just honestly didn't feel like doing anything in general, especially taking care of myself and/or appearance. Therefore, things such as hair, makeup, and clothing pretty much fell by the wayside. I just simply didn't care.

And in a way, I still don't. But, I'm trying. 

I still don't wear makeup often, or even fix my hair everyday.... and I'm usually in pajamas or some form of sweatpants. However, I found that once I dyed my hair black again (after three glasses of wine, a few shots of whisky, and some other not to be named *shhh*) I began to feel more like myself. Not the old me, just the me in general.

More like the carefree girl that while she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, was also carefree and completely and utterly just herself. The good, the bad, and the ugly. It doesn't matter if I'm not 100% or if everybody else thinks I look like a pale trainwreck walking. All that matters is that I'm a little more confident in myself and that I feel better, even if it's just a miniscule amount.

While that seems a little bit much to get from a small hair change, it is also something that I needed to do for myself to get back to myself. And honestly, there's no substitution for that. So, here I stand, trying and pushing through every single day. The small changes, the big decisions, and everything in between.

Happy New Year and let's try not to let 2021 be such a f*cking shitshow.