Unfiltered Notes

Ah, January. The month where the internet collectively decides that you should suddenly: -Wake up early -Heal all your trauma -Drink water -Work out -Meditate -Eat clean -And never yell again All while someone is screaming, something is sticky, and your brain forgot why you walked into the room. Sure. Sounds fucking reasonable. Let’s be clear: Most New Year’s resolutions aren’t failing because you’re lazy. They’re failing because they’re designed for people who do cocaine-level motivation and have support systems. You have crumbs. And chaos. Rule 1: If Your Resolution Requires “Motivation,” It’s Already Dead Motivation is a flaky bitch. She shows up once in January and then ghosts you like a toxic ex. If your plan is: “I’ll do this when I feel like it.” Congrats. You will never feel like it. Instead, make resolutions that work even when you’re overstimulated, dissociated, and angry about socks. Examples that actually survive reality: -Do one thing. -Show up badly. -Stop quitting just b...

Or: How to Relocate Your Chaos and Pretend You're Fine Congratulations. You're moving... With kids. You've made some questionable life choices, but here we are. This isn't your typical moving checklist. This is the one written by parents who've watched their toddlers lose their minds over a missing toy during the move, their autistic kids melt down at the sound of a doorbell, and their own sanity slowly leak out like a forgotten juice box under the couch. Print it. Laminate it if you're fancy (or have lost all grip on reality). Check things off. Survive. The "Don't Forget These or Regret Everything" Tier Important Documents Lease/rental agreement – So you can legally prove this is your problem now. IDs for all humans – Because the moving company doesn't accept "I promise I'm real." Insurance cards – For when little Timmy breaks something expensive on day one. Medical records/prescriptions – Especially if anyone in your house is ne...

Once upon a meltdown, deep into the night, The clock hands swung like hammers, and nothing felt alright. The coffee cup was shattered, the floor was sticky, too, You Googled “how to calm a storm,” but found no magic clue. The screams bounced off the ceiling, like banshees on parade, You paced the halls in zombie mode, hope slowly started to fade. Once upon a meltdown, patience hit the floor, You whispered to the shadows, “Just one day, maybe one more.” The laundry mountain laughed aloud, the dishes sang their plea, The endless cook-and-clean routine would never set you free. The bedtime stories turned to ice, the quiet felt absurd, You counted all the sleepless nights, and cursed every absurd word. But daylight breaks with fragile hope, a smile, a tiny hand, And though the chaos rages on, you try to understand. Once upon a meltdown, amidst the noise and mess, There’s love that fights through brokenness, and maybe some success.