SOME BACKSTORY AND CONTEXT for folks who aren’t on ye olde tiktok: if you’re even the wee-est bit crunchy on that app, you’ve been getting inundated with ads for this book for MONTHS. They’re all pretty similar “THEY don’t want you to have this book. Get it before THEY take it away. You can take care of YOURSELF.” Which are two of my big no-no’s, both as someone who used to work in marketing, and as a general human. If you have to scare someone into wanting something? They don’t need it. And there’s a lot of money to be made in American rugged individualism. In reality, even before globalized modern medicine, it was never just *anybody* helping people who were sick. It was still doctors and healers, who took a lot of time to learn what they knew (it’s just a little different and a lot more stressful now 😅) Implying that there’s any historical evidence that people did well only providing for only the people in their home and no one else? It’s a little wild and disheartening to me. And lastly, and maybe most controversially, I think it’s important to recognize when people advocating for distrust of doctors stand to make money from said distrust. And that not saying anything about this book in particular, more the culture in which it’s fallen into. Be mad at the financial institutions that make doctors make awful choices. Be mad at the billionaires in boardrooms hiking the price of your uncle’s diabetes meds. But remember people, people as fully realized and full of hopes as you and I, suffer through the slog and anguish of medical school and nursing school to HELP people. That’s not to say some people haven’t become jaded, but the overall “they don’t wanna cure us so they can keep making money off of us” attitude towards doctors seems misplaced, in my opinion. Anyway thank you for coming to my TED talk that I didn’t mean to write. Let’s keep it kind in the comments so my nervous eye twitch doesn’t come back, please! 🙏🏾 🩷
*scampers away to explain what @dropouttv is to all of my older relatives*
moments of joy I’ve been lucky enough to have just before and during tragedies. My mom lost her partner, John (who with my mom happily, lovingly, and enthusiastically showed up for me and my sister for everything. Plays, comedy shows, lectures, good days, less than good days…) Having someone disappear without warning was like a plane losing a window, pressure falling, oxygen escaping, everything cold and frantic. And I’m admittedly awful when it comes to talking about death, and still worry about if I’ve been showing up for my mom to the best of my ability… but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s be there with the people I love, with a warm beverage, and a heart ready to help carry their pain. But I still feel so helpless watching someone who deserves the world experience such profound loss. 36 hours later after we lost John, my dad was rushed to the hospital. It was one of those moments where you can only throw your head back and laugh. and then cry. My dad, after hours of bedside chats and hand squeezing has thankfully stabilized. but he left the hospital with a cancer diagnosis that he didn’t have when he entered. It’s been a hard season. And yet there have been moments of holding joy, community, light, and togetherness during it all. It’s made me realize again and again and again and again how lucky I am to have a family, chosen and blood, that is ready to catch me softly when I fall. I’m thankful for my mom’s amazing friends, and her ability to bring great people together. I’m thankful for so many of you, for sweet little phone distractions and patience as I try to put the parts of my heart and mind back on the shelf from which they were tossed. There is so much grief in this life. But there is also so much love. They may even be two sides of the same coin 🩷 So here, have some of the lightness (and a couple real dissociative moments 😅) that got me through the darkness. Maybe it’ll bring a little glow to you, too.
moments of joy I’ve been lucky enough to have just before and during tragedies. My mom lost her partner, John (who with my mom happily, lovingly, and enthusiastically showed up for me and my sister for everything. Plays, comedy shows, lectures, good days, less than good days…) Having someone disappear without warning was like a plane losing a window, pressure falling, oxygen escaping, everything cold and frantic. And I’m admittedly awful when it comes to talking about death, and still worry about if I’ve been showing up for my mom to the best of my ability… but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s be there with the people I love, with a warm beverage, and a heart ready to help carry their pain. But I still feel so helpless watching someone who deserves the world experience such profound loss. 36 hours later after we lost John, my dad was rushed to the hospital. It was one of those moments where you can only throw your head back and laugh. and then cry. My dad, after hours of bedside chats and hand squeezing has thankfully stabilized. but he left the hospital with a cancer diagnosis that he didn’t have when he entered. It’s been a hard season. And yet there have been moments of holding joy, community, light, and togetherness during it all. It’s made me realize again and again and again and again how lucky I am to have a family, chosen and blood, that is ready to catch me softly when I fall. I’m thankful for my mom’s amazing friends, and her ability to bring great people together. I’m thankful for so many of you, for sweet little phone distractions and patience as I try to put the parts of my heart and mind back on the shelf from which they were tossed. There is so much grief in this life. But there is also so much love. They may even be two sides of the same coin 🩷 So here, have some of the lightness (and a couple real dissociative moments 😅) that got me through the darkness. Maybe it’ll bring a little glow to you, too.
moments of joy I’ve been lucky enough to have just before and during tragedies. My mom lost her partner, John (who with my mom happily, lovingly, and enthusiastically showed up for me and my sister for everything. Plays, comedy shows, lectures, good days, less than good days…) Having someone disappear without warning was like a plane losing a window, pressure falling, oxygen escaping, everything cold and frantic. And I’m admittedly awful when it comes to talking about death, and still worry about if I’ve been showing up for my mom to the best of my ability… but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s be there with the people I love, with a warm beverage, and a heart ready to help carry their pain. But I still feel so helpless watching someone who deserves the world experience such profound loss. 36 hours later after we lost John, my dad was rushed to the hospital. It was one of those moments where you can only throw your head back and laugh. and then cry. My dad, after hours of bedside chats and hand squeezing has thankfully stabilized. but he left the hospital with a cancer diagnosis that he didn’t have when he entered. It’s been a hard season. And yet there have been moments of holding joy, community, light, and togetherness during it all. It’s made me realize again and again and again and again how lucky I am to have a family, chosen and blood, that is ready to catch me softly when I fall. I’m thankful for my mom’s amazing friends, and her ability to bring great people together. I’m thankful for so many of you, for sweet little phone distractions and patience as I try to put the parts of my heart and mind back on the shelf from which they were tossed. There is so much grief in this life. But there is also so much love. They may even be two sides of the same coin 🩷 So here, have some of the lightness (and a couple real dissociative moments 😅) that got me through the darkness. Maybe it’ll bring a little glow to you, too.
moments of joy I’ve been lucky enough to have just before and during tragedies. My mom lost her partner, John (who with my mom happily, lovingly, and enthusiastically showed up for me and my sister for everything. Plays, comedy shows, lectures, good days, less than good days…) Having someone disappear without warning was like a plane losing a window, pressure falling, oxygen escaping, everything cold and frantic. And I’m admittedly awful when it comes to talking about death, and still worry about if I’ve been showing up for my mom to the best of my ability… but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s be there with the people I love, with a warm beverage, and a heart ready to help carry their pain. But I still feel so helpless watching someone who deserves the world experience such profound loss. 36 hours later after we lost John, my dad was rushed to the hospital. It was one of those moments where you can only throw your head back and laugh. and then cry. My dad, after hours of bedside chats and hand squeezing has thankfully stabilized. but he left the hospital with a cancer diagnosis that he didn’t have when he entered. It’s been a hard season. And yet there have been moments of holding joy, community, light, and togetherness during it all. It’s made me realize again and again and again and again how lucky I am to have a family, chosen and blood, that is ready to catch me softly when I fall. I’m thankful for my mom’s amazing friends, and her ability to bring great people together. I’m thankful for so many of you, for sweet little phone distractions and patience as I try to put the parts of my heart and mind back on the shelf from which they were tossed. There is so much grief in this life. But there is also so much love. They may even be two sides of the same coin 🩷 So here, have some of the lightness (and a couple real dissociative moments 😅) that got me through the darkness. Maybe it’ll bring a little glow to you, too.
moments of joy I’ve been lucky enough to have just before and during tragedies. My mom lost her partner, John (who with my mom happily, lovingly, and enthusiastically showed up for me and my sister for everything. Plays, comedy shows, lectures, good days, less than good days…) Having someone disappear without warning was like a plane losing a window, pressure falling, oxygen escaping, everything cold and frantic. And I’m admittedly awful when it comes to talking about death, and still worry about if I’ve been showing up for my mom to the best of my ability… but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s be there with the people I love, with a warm beverage, and a heart ready to help carry their pain. But I still feel so helpless watching someone who deserves the world experience such profound loss. 36 hours later after we lost John, my dad was rushed to the hospital. It was one of those moments where you can only throw your head back and laugh. and then cry. My dad, after hours of bedside chats and hand squeezing has thankfully stabilized. but he left the hospital with a cancer diagnosis that he didn’t have when he entered. It’s been a hard season. And yet there have been moments of holding joy, community, light, and togetherness during it all. It’s made me realize again and again and again and again how lucky I am to have a family, chosen and blood, that is ready to catch me softly when I fall. I’m thankful for my mom’s amazing friends, and her ability to bring great people together. I’m thankful for so many of you, for sweet little phone distractions and patience as I try to put the parts of my heart and mind back on the shelf from which they were tossed. There is so much grief in this life. But there is also so much love. They may even be two sides of the same coin 🩷 So here, have some of the lightness (and a couple real dissociative moments 😅) that got me through the darkness. Maybe it’ll bring a little glow to you, too.
moments of joy I’ve been lucky enough to have just before and during tragedies. My mom lost her partner, John (who with my mom happily, lovingly, and enthusiastically showed up for me and my sister for everything. Plays, comedy shows, lectures, good days, less than good days…) Having someone disappear without warning was like a plane losing a window, pressure falling, oxygen escaping, everything cold and frantic. And I’m admittedly awful when it comes to talking about death, and still worry about if I’ve been showing up for my mom to the best of my ability… but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s be there with the people I love, with a warm beverage, and a heart ready to help carry their pain. But I still feel so helpless watching someone who deserves the world experience such profound loss. 36 hours later after we lost John, my dad was rushed to the hospital. It was one of those moments where you can only throw your head back and laugh. and then cry. My dad, after hours of bedside chats and hand squeezing has thankfully stabilized. but he left the hospital with a cancer diagnosis that he didn’t have when he entered. It’s been a hard season. And yet there have been moments of holding joy, community, light, and togetherness during it all. It’s made me realize again and again and again and again how lucky I am to have a family, chosen and blood, that is ready to catch me softly when I fall. I’m thankful for my mom’s amazing friends, and her ability to bring great people together. I’m thankful for so many of you, for sweet little phone distractions and patience as I try to put the parts of my heart and mind back on the shelf from which they were tossed. There is so much grief in this life. But there is also so much love. They may even be two sides of the same coin 🩷 So here, have some of the lightness (and a couple real dissociative moments 😅) that got me through the darkness. Maybe it’ll bring a little glow to you, too.
moments of joy I’ve been lucky enough to have just before and during tragedies. My mom lost her partner, John (who with my mom happily, lovingly, and enthusiastically showed up for me and my sister for everything. Plays, comedy shows, lectures, good days, less than good days…) Having someone disappear without warning was like a plane losing a window, pressure falling, oxygen escaping, everything cold and frantic. And I’m admittedly awful when it comes to talking about death, and still worry about if I’ve been showing up for my mom to the best of my ability… but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s be there with the people I love, with a warm beverage, and a heart ready to help carry their pain. But I still feel so helpless watching someone who deserves the world experience such profound loss. 36 hours later after we lost John, my dad was rushed to the hospital. It was one of those moments where you can only throw your head back and laugh. and then cry. My dad, after hours of bedside chats and hand squeezing has thankfully stabilized. but he left the hospital with a cancer diagnosis that he didn’t have when he entered. It’s been a hard season. And yet there have been moments of holding joy, community, light, and togetherness during it all. It’s made me realize again and again and again and again how lucky I am to have a family, chosen and blood, that is ready to catch me softly when I fall. I’m thankful for my mom’s amazing friends, and her ability to bring great people together. I’m thankful for so many of you, for sweet little phone distractions and patience as I try to put the parts of my heart and mind back on the shelf from which they were tossed. There is so much grief in this life. But there is also so much love. They may even be two sides of the same coin 🩷 So here, have some of the lightness (and a couple real dissociative moments 😅) that got me through the darkness. Maybe it’ll bring a little glow to you, too.
moments of joy I’ve been lucky enough to have just before and during tragedies. My mom lost her partner, John (who with my mom happily, lovingly, and enthusiastically showed up for me and my sister for everything. Plays, comedy shows, lectures, good days, less than good days…) Having someone disappear without warning was like a plane losing a window, pressure falling, oxygen escaping, everything cold and frantic. And I’m admittedly awful when it comes to talking about death, and still worry about if I’ve been showing up for my mom to the best of my ability… but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s be there with the people I love, with a warm beverage, and a heart ready to help carry their pain. But I still feel so helpless watching someone who deserves the world experience such profound loss. 36 hours later after we lost John, my dad was rushed to the hospital. It was one of those moments where you can only throw your head back and laugh. and then cry. My dad, after hours of bedside chats and hand squeezing has thankfully stabilized. but he left the hospital with a cancer diagnosis that he didn’t have when he entered. It’s been a hard season. And yet there have been moments of holding joy, community, light, and togetherness during it all. It’s made me realize again and again and again and again how lucky I am to have a family, chosen and blood, that is ready to catch me softly when I fall. I’m thankful for my mom’s amazing friends, and her ability to bring great people together. I’m thankful for so many of you, for sweet little phone distractions and patience as I try to put the parts of my heart and mind back on the shelf from which they were tossed. There is so much grief in this life. But there is also so much love. They may even be two sides of the same coin 🩷 So here, have some of the lightness (and a couple real dissociative moments 😅) that got me through the darkness. Maybe it’ll bring a little glow to you, too.
moments of joy I’ve been lucky enough to have just before and during tragedies. My mom lost her partner, John (who with my mom happily, lovingly, and enthusiastically showed up for me and my sister for everything. Plays, comedy shows, lectures, good days, less than good days…) Having someone disappear without warning was like a plane losing a window, pressure falling, oxygen escaping, everything cold and frantic. And I’m admittedly awful when it comes to talking about death, and still worry about if I’ve been showing up for my mom to the best of my ability… but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s be there with the people I love, with a warm beverage, and a heart ready to help carry their pain. But I still feel so helpless watching someone who deserves the world experience such profound loss. 36 hours later after we lost John, my dad was rushed to the hospital. It was one of those moments where you can only throw your head back and laugh. and then cry. My dad, after hours of bedside chats and hand squeezing has thankfully stabilized. but he left the hospital with a cancer diagnosis that he didn’t have when he entered. It’s been a hard season. And yet there have been moments of holding joy, community, light, and togetherness during it all. It’s made me realize again and again and again and again how lucky I am to have a family, chosen and blood, that is ready to catch me softly when I fall. I’m thankful for my mom’s amazing friends, and her ability to bring great people together. I’m thankful for so many of you, for sweet little phone distractions and patience as I try to put the parts of my heart and mind back on the shelf from which they were tossed. There is so much grief in this life. But there is also so much love. They may even be two sides of the same coin 🩷 So here, have some of the lightness (and a couple real dissociative moments 😅) that got me through the darkness. Maybe it’ll bring a little glow to you, too.
moments of joy I’ve been lucky enough to have just before and during tragedies. My mom lost her partner, John (who with my mom happily, lovingly, and enthusiastically showed up for me and my sister for everything. Plays, comedy shows, lectures, good days, less than good days…) Having someone disappear without warning was like a plane losing a window, pressure falling, oxygen escaping, everything cold and frantic. And I’m admittedly awful when it comes to talking about death, and still worry about if I’ve been showing up for my mom to the best of my ability… but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s be there with the people I love, with a warm beverage, and a heart ready to help carry their pain. But I still feel so helpless watching someone who deserves the world experience such profound loss. 36 hours later after we lost John, my dad was rushed to the hospital. It was one of those moments where you can only throw your head back and laugh. and then cry. My dad, after hours of bedside chats and hand squeezing has thankfully stabilized. but he left the hospital with a cancer diagnosis that he didn’t have when he entered. It’s been a hard season. And yet there have been moments of holding joy, community, light, and togetherness during it all. It’s made me realize again and again and again and again how lucky I am to have a family, chosen and blood, that is ready to catch me softly when I fall. I’m thankful for my mom’s amazing friends, and her ability to bring great people together. I’m thankful for so many of you, for sweet little phone distractions and patience as I try to put the parts of my heart and mind back on the shelf from which they were tossed. There is so much grief in this life. But there is also so much love. They may even be two sides of the same coin 🩷 So here, have some of the lightness (and a couple real dissociative moments 😅) that got me through the darkness. Maybe it’ll bring a little glow to you, too.
moments of joy I’ve been lucky enough to have just before and during tragedies. My mom lost her partner, John (who with my mom happily, lovingly, and enthusiastically showed up for me and my sister for everything. Plays, comedy shows, lectures, good days, less than good days…) Having someone disappear without warning was like a plane losing a window, pressure falling, oxygen escaping, everything cold and frantic. And I’m admittedly awful when it comes to talking about death, and still worry about if I’ve been showing up for my mom to the best of my ability… but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s be there with the people I love, with a warm beverage, and a heart ready to help carry their pain. But I still feel so helpless watching someone who deserves the world experience such profound loss. 36 hours later after we lost John, my dad was rushed to the hospital. It was one of those moments where you can only throw your head back and laugh. and then cry. My dad, after hours of bedside chats and hand squeezing has thankfully stabilized. but he left the hospital with a cancer diagnosis that he didn’t have when he entered. It’s been a hard season. And yet there have been moments of holding joy, community, light, and togetherness during it all. It’s made me realize again and again and again and again how lucky I am to have a family, chosen and blood, that is ready to catch me softly when I fall. I’m thankful for my mom’s amazing friends, and her ability to bring great people together. I’m thankful for so many of you, for sweet little phone distractions and patience as I try to put the parts of my heart and mind back on the shelf from which they were tossed. There is so much grief in this life. But there is also so much love. They may even be two sides of the same coin 🩷 So here, have some of the lightness (and a couple real dissociative moments 😅) that got me through the darkness. Maybe it’ll bring a little glow to you, too.
moments of joy I’ve been lucky enough to have just before and during tragedies. My mom lost her partner, John (who with my mom happily, lovingly, and enthusiastically showed up for me and my sister for everything. Plays, comedy shows, lectures, good days, less than good days…) Having someone disappear without warning was like a plane losing a window, pressure falling, oxygen escaping, everything cold and frantic. And I’m admittedly awful when it comes to talking about death, and still worry about if I’ve been showing up for my mom to the best of my ability… but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s be there with the people I love, with a warm beverage, and a heart ready to help carry their pain. But I still feel so helpless watching someone who deserves the world experience such profound loss. 36 hours later after we lost John, my dad was rushed to the hospital. It was one of those moments where you can only throw your head back and laugh. and then cry. My dad, after hours of bedside chats and hand squeezing has thankfully stabilized. but he left the hospital with a cancer diagnosis that he didn’t have when he entered. It’s been a hard season. And yet there have been moments of holding joy, community, light, and togetherness during it all. It’s made me realize again and again and again and again how lucky I am to have a family, chosen and blood, that is ready to catch me softly when I fall. I’m thankful for my mom’s amazing friends, and her ability to bring great people together. I’m thankful for so many of you, for sweet little phone distractions and patience as I try to put the parts of my heart and mind back on the shelf from which they were tossed. There is so much grief in this life. But there is also so much love. They may even be two sides of the same coin 🩷 So here, have some of the lightness (and a couple real dissociative moments 😅) that got me through the darkness. Maybe it’ll bring a little glow to you, too.
WINTER CELEBRATIONS AND FRIENDS AND FAMILY AND VERY VERY GOOD FOOD AND DRESSES THAT MAKE CATS FOLLOW ME
What are your hopes for the next 52- erm, sorry, 51 weeks?
What are your hopes for the next 52- erm, sorry, 51 weeks?
What are your hopes for the next 52- erm, sorry, 51 weeks?
What are your hopes for the next 52- erm, sorry, 51 weeks?
What are your hopes for the next 52- erm, sorry, 51 weeks?
I filmed this in the beginning of May and never posted it, but the difference between these two plants has come up a BUNCH in my comments since then, so I pulled this out of the tiktok drafts nethersphere!
THE SEASON OF FRESH GREENS BEGINS! With a plant friend that traveled an awfully long way to be here: Fukinoto! The whole video I made (with two recipes!!) was 9mins long so I posted it to ye olde y0utube, but I had to share some of the fun over here on IG, too!
TIS THE SEASON FOR SLURPING SAP! HUZZAH! 🥳
THEY’RE BACK AT LONG LAST!! 🫧 You all loved the scents of my SOLD OUT collection with @blueland so much we had no choice but to bring them back!! Cure your winter blues and bring my favorite scents of summer foraged ingredients to your sink: Beach Rose, Juneberry Basil and Lilac Clove. RUN don’t walk to blueland.com (or use the link in my bio!!!)
