Image: This was the first snowman I built. Perfect in its imperfections.
My “weekend experience” reads like a short story of loss, truth, and unapologetic survival.
Dear reader,
Galen’s challenge this week hit differently. To me these were not random questions to choose from, they were like mirrors - no…. they were like a magnifying glass inspecting the pain points of my week.
What a week it was…
Do I like kids.
Yes… from a safe distance. You see, kids are brutally honest, weirdly sticky (am i right?) and unfiltered in a way I love. They remind me of who I used to be - the cute awkward kid who asked too many questions, and didn’t just accept things because an adult said so. Turns out, grown-ups don’t like that. And eventually, neither did my family.
Am I an Ignorant Asshole?
Come on now - we all have our moments. But me? Ugggh. I’ve been the person who walked away, shut those doors and burned bridges when I needed to. That’s how i dealt! Some might call that selfish. But… when survival is the only option you have, being polite is a luxury. If looking after my own peace makes me an asshole, then okay, fine - I’ll wear it like a crown of honour.
The Great Art of Life is Sensation, Even in Pain
Pain is proof that we exist. Lemme say that again - this time for the people at the back:
Pain
Is
Proof
That
We
Exist
I learned that the hard way. Losing my gran (my mom, my Ma, my rock) losing family, losing every outdated version of myself… it all hurt like hell. But I’ve learned that trying to numb the pain also numbs, well, everything else. So I’ve stopped running from it. I choose to feel. Even when it sucks. Because the alternative? A life lived on mute.
The Media and Its Agenda
The media m, hmm, the media isn’t here to inform. It’s here to shape the narratives, control perception, and keep people just outraged enough to stay engaged, but not enough to actually do anything. I think fear sells and misinformation spreads faster than truth. And, once you start questioning it all, you see how much of the world is built on stories someone else decided were worth telling.
My Last Words?
“Tell them I tried.”
Because I have: Tries to make sense of the chaos. Tried to heal. Tried to hold on. I tried to let go. Some days, I succeeded. Some days, I didn’t. But effort was made. And that’s enough.
If I Could Speak at Birth?
“What the hell is this?”
Because seriously - being born must be terrifying. One moment, floating in warmth, the next - being dragged into bright lights, cold air, and loud noises. Honestly? That feeling never really goes away. Doesnt life keep throwing us into the unknown? You just learn to stop screaming about it.
My closing thoughts:
Some losses cut d-e-e-p. But I’ve learned to laugh in between the wounds. Because its in the spaces in between that we learn that survival isn’t just about getting through - it’s about OWNING every single part of the journey, especially the messy, ridiculous, painful bits.
Till next week, keep living, keep stepping!
My first snow…