I’m sitting on my couch late at night on a Friday reflecting on this year, its lessons, its pain, its growth, and looking for the light parts. Looking hard.
I’m here in maternity sweatpants with a sweater stretched over my bouncing and expanding belly, wearing a messy bun and practically no make-up despite having gone to a movie with my family earlier this evening, and staring at half polished toes I can’t reach.
It feels a lil’ bit different than last year same time. Tad. But then again, all of 2016 felt different. And not really me at my fullest expression for a good chunk of it. It felt a little… out of body, like, literally.
When I look at the things that make me go, the things that make me a powerful me, I don’t see many of them hidden in the remains of this year. Continue reading