Conversations In My Head With Nowhere To Go.

I’ve talked to my mom my entire life. Not every day, but often—sometimes just to share something small, something that didn’t matter to anyone else but mattered to me. She was my person. My audience. My constant.

After spending my whole adult life running a daycare, I finally retired. For years, I imagined retirement would mean more time with her—slow afternoons, longer visits, conversations that didn’t have to end because I had somewhere else to be.

Instead, I retired... and then I lost her.

Nobody prepares you for grieving not just the person, but the future you thought you were finally going to have with them.

Now I find myself wondering who I’m supposed to call. When something funny happens. When I find a good deal. When I want to brag about my grandkids. When I’m sick, excited, scared... or when there’s another grandbaby on the way.

For sixty-one years, the answer was always the same.

My mom.

Grief has a way of hiding in the smallest habits. Reaching for the phone. Seeing something and thinking, I need to tell Mom. Then remembering I can’t.

Life will go on. I’ll keep writing, loving my grandkids, and doing all the things I’ve always done. But there are still conversations in my head with nowhere to go.

I still want to hear her laugh. I still miss the way she’d start every opinion with, “Well...” before telling me exactly what she thought—even if I wasn’t going to take her advice anyway.

Maybe grief is simply missing the place where all your words used to land. So maybe I keep talking anyway. Maybe I write. Maybe I tell the stories. Maybe that’s how I keep her close. 

One More Thing... Really?

I think we all go through seasons where life knocks us down. Sometimes it doesn’t just knock us down—it throws the whole kitchen sink at us... and then somehow finds another kitchen sink. 😂

Nobody gets through this life without hurt, disappointment, unfair situations, and those moments where you just look up and say, “Seriously? One more thing?” That’s called being human.

But somewhere along the way, we have to be careful that what happened to us doesn’t become who we are. There’s a difference between living through a hard chapter and deciding the entire book is ruined.

And let’s be honest... sometimes staying stuck can feel easier. Because if everything is everyone else’s fault, we never have to ask the uncomfortable question, “What can I do differently?” Nobody likes that question. It shows up uninvited, sits on your couch, helps itself to your snacks, and points out things you were hoping nobody noticed. 😂

Now, this doesn’t mean bad things don’t happen. They absolutely do. People hurt us. Life can be unfair. Circumstances come along that we never would have chosen. But healing usually begins when we stop giving the worst moments of our lives permission to make every decision that comes afterward.

At some point, we have to ask ourselves, “Am I carrying this experience, or is this experience carrying me?” Because there’s a difference.

The victim mindset keeps score forever. It remembers every hurt, every disappointment, every person who didn’t show up, and every time life wasn’t fair. The problem is, when your arms are full carrying all of that, there isn’t much room left for hope, joy, growth, or even the people who are trying to walk beside you.

We can’t always choose what happens to us. But we usually get to choose what we do next. Maybe not immediately. Maybe not easily. Maybe one tiny step at a time.

Your past may explain you, but it doesn’t have to define you. Your story is allowed to have more than one chapter. Just make sure you’re still holding the pen.

Just Say No!

Definitely. I’d make #2 short and punchy:

Somebody Needed to Say It: Just Say No

Why do we say yes when we mean no?

“Sure, I’ll do it.”

Then spend the next three days complaining to everyone except the person who asked us. 😂

“I don’t mind.”

Yes, you do.

You mind a lot.

Then we get mad because people don’t respect our boundaries.

What boundaries?

You said yes!

Stop expecting people to read your mind. If you don’t want to do something, say no. If something bothers you, say so. If someone asks too much of you, tell them.

Saying no isn’t rude. Saying yes and then resenting someone for believing you is ridiculous.

Say what you mean. Mean what you say.

And stop handing people permission slips and getting pissed when they use them.

Somebody needed to say it. 😂

Summer is slipping away

Bare feet in the grass

Long days melting into dusk

Gone before we know

Maybe Don't Take Relationship Advice from Karen

I’m convinced the internet has become the world’s most unqualified relationship counselor.

It doesn’t matter what someone posts. The advice is almost always the same.

“Cut them off.”

“Go no contact.”

“Give them an ultimatum.”

I swear, if someone posted, “My sister forgot my birthday,” half the comments would be, “She’s toxic. You don’t need that kind of negativity in your life.” Your husband leaves his socks on the floor? Divorce. Your mom calls too much? Block her. Your brother borrowed your ladder three years ago and still hasn’t brought it back? Clearly he doesn’t respect your boundaries.

At this point, I’m almost afraid to ask what kind of laundry detergent people recommend because somebody’s going to tell me my washing machine is gaslighting me.

Now, before anybody gets mad, let me say this. There are absolutely relationships that need distance. Some people are abusive. Some relationships are unhealthy. Sometimes walking away really is the healthiest thing you can do.

But I also think we’ve become way too comfortable telling complete strangers to make permanent decisions based on one paragraph on the internet. We don’t know the whole story. We don’t know the thirty years that came before the post. We don’t know if this is a lifelong pattern, a misunderstanding, or just one really bad Tuesday.

That decision belongs to the person living it—not to people scrolling Facebook while eating chips on the couch.

What concerns me is how often boundaries and ultimatums get lumped together like they’re the same thing. They’re not.

A boundary says, “This is what I need to do to protect my peace.”

An ultimatum says, “Do what I want, or else.”

There’s a difference.

Sometimes an ultimatum is nothing more than an adult version of standing on the playground with your arms crossed saying, “If you won’t play my game, I’m taking my toys and going home.” I’d like to think we’ve outgrown that.

Relationships are messy because people are messy. We misunderstand each other. We get hurt. We say things we wish we could take back. Sometimes we apologize. Sometimes we forgive. Sometimes we agree to disagree. And sometimes, after you've communicated, tried, prayed, cried, set healthy boundaries, and done everything you reasonably can, walking away really is the right decision.

But that decision should come from your heart, your experiences, and your circumstances—not because a hundred strangers typed, “Cut them off,” before they finished their morning coffee.

So by all means, listen to advice. Consider different perspectives. Learn from people who have walked a similar road.

Then close the app.

Because the people in the comments won't be sitting beside you five years from now wondering if the relationship could have been saved.

You will.

Protect your peace. Set healthy boundaries. But make sure the decision is yours.

Because while some bridges truly do need to be burned...

A whole lot of them just need a little maintenance.