What’s My Point?
This is where I follow a thought around until I figure out why it followed me home.
Motherhood, mirrors, magick, music, art, old voices, new ones, and whatever else is alive in the room. Somewhere to leave the whole trail instead of squeezing every thought into a little rectangle video on social media.
Breadcrumbs, basically.
🎙️ Rather listen?
I like being read to. I love podcasts and audiobooks because I can listen while I’m with my son, painting, folding laundry, cleaning the kitchen, or doing whatever else my hands have decided to get into.
So I’m making a listenable branch of Breadcrumbs.
What’s My Point? is part audio journal, part wandering thought. A lot of it begins with something I’ve written in my actual journal, some little thing that happened or followed me around long enough to make me wonder why.
That part is new for me. I’m used to writing these things, turning them into songs, and carrying them around in my headphones. I rarely actually talk about any of this out loud.
Right now, I’m still nervous. I’m recording in a closet with my notes in front of me, reading more than I probably will someday. 😂 As I get more comfortable, I hope to rely on the page less and let myself follow the breadcrumbs out loud, lose my point occasionally, find it again, and see where the thought goes.
For now, this is what my voice sounds like while it’s learning to leave my head.
[Listen to What’s My Point?]
Or, scroll down to read the blogs.
Thank you for looking.
God, You’re So Ugly
I lost my nose piercing, looked in the mirror and the old recording fired: “God, you’re so ugly.” This time, it hurt. I cried because I couldn’t believe how cruel I’d been to myself. A breadcrumb about mirrors, buried rage, emotional ladders, ritual, protection, and the strange distance between hating myself and liking myself. Turns out there are a lot of floors between those two places.
Maybe healing is hearing the old voice and realizing whose side you’re on when it starts playing.
Good Thing We Have Soft Mats
Truman falls off the couch and says, “Good thing we have soft mats.” I hear my voice coming out of him.
Lately, parenting keeps teaching me the same strange lesson: leave a little space before intervening. Before fixing. Before explaining. Before deciding discomfort means FIX IT. Somehow this becomes a story about motherhood, magick, social media, old voices, and cereal.