My American Dream.
Things shake out of me. Reverberating the bones of my chest on the way out, right at the spot where my heart is. I used to not pay attention, but I am trying to pay attention these days. I used to eat chips, I still do sometimes, and other times I think maybe the secrets of life are on
Signing Off as Don’t Let the Mini Van Fool You.
This is my last blog as Don’t Let the Mini Van Fool You. I needed the blog to write out loud. To feel worthy enough to say the things that gnaw at the insides of my chest begging to be let out without fear of
Experiments in Soggy.
I am soggy I am not too sure when I got soggy, or if I was always soggy. I mean, I am not the fun friend, which could lead me to believe I was always destined for soggy. I am fun, if you are a
Almost 36
I get caught up in my head all the time. I lose my ground, or hand it away sometimes, without noticing I did that. I usually have to be dragged out of places, Once you get me on the road I am a monster at
Ready for Love.
I like to feel important. That should correlate great to having kids, and an adoring husband, but I was raised to be love resistant. I see all the love, and instead jump into the heartbreak of the things I do not have. I was raised
What Can I Do?
It is an interesting time to be an American. A place where past, and present no longer correlate. The rips in the picture far too deep for me to look away from. The instructions I received on how to thrive here are not exactly working
The Patriarchy.
My Grandmother for weeks now, has been recounting the day my Grandpa died on our Sunday visits. It started when I asked her if I could buy her a new bed. She told me she has not slept in a bed in nineteen years, because
Expectaion Junkie in Recovery.
Being an only child I had to go out into the world and find people to love. I was blessed with my fair share of cousins, and grew up nestled in-between a group that felt like the best kind of siblings, because they went home.
Monica Said There Would Be Days Like This.
I have a book in my bathroom called “14,000 things to be happy about.” It was a Christmas gift from my Aunt who had just been diagnosed with cancer. This Aunt was a very thoughtful gift giver, and inside she wrote: “ Janika, Of all