August 9, 2026

Today’s update.

I did the basics. I got up, fed myself, took care of Beaker and took my meds. Then I got back into bed and spent the majority of the day staring at the ceiling.

I did manage to shower last night, so at least I don’t smell like a complete mess. We’re counting the little victories around here.

I think staying in bed today is partly my way of avoiding tomorrow.

Tomorrow, I have to start taking my mom off my financial accounts.

It needs to be done. I know that. It’s practical. It’s necessary. Her name can’t stay attached to accounts and financial things forever simply because I don’t want to remove it.

But knowing something is necessary doesn’t make it hurt any less.

It feels like another tiny way I’m eliminating her from my life.

I know I’m not.

Taking her name off an account doesn’t erase my mom. Taking safety locks off the stove doesn’t erase her. Moving things around my house doesn’t erase her. Changing all of these little things that no longer make sense without her here doesn’t erase the years she lived here with me.

But grief doesn’t always listen to logic.

Sometimes a name on a financial account is just a name on a financial account.

And sometimes it feels like another piece of your mother disappearing.

So maybe today I’m avoiding tomorrow.

I moved my Whatnot show again too.

I’m trying. I really am.

I want to get back in front of my audience. I miss streaming. I know live sales are important to my business, and I know eventually I have to turn the camera back on.

But streaming means putting on a show.

It means being goofy and quirky. It means talking to people, laughing, selling things and having the energy to engage with everyone.

I know that person is still in here somewhere.

Right now, though, I feel so fucking heavy.

I don’t want my first show back to be me pretending I’m okay for a few hours because I think that’s what everyone expects from me. I want to come back when I can at least recognize a little bit of myself on that screen.

So I’m giving myself a goal.

I will do a Whatnot show before the end of August.

It doesn’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to magically become the person I was before my mom died. I just have to show up.

I’ve also been struggling more lately because my therapist has been on vacation. I go back to counseling next week, and I desperately need it.

Grieving alone is hard.

And when I say alone, I don’t mean that I don’t have people. I do. I have people who care about me, check on me and want desperately for me to feel better. I love them for that.

But grieving with people you know can be difficult in a completely different way.

They tell you it’s going to be okay.

They mean well.

I know they mean well.

But I don’t want to hear that it’s going to be okay.

I don’t need someone to convince me that someday this won’t hurt this badly. I don’t need someone searching for the right words to make me feel better.

Sometimes I just need to be fucking sad.

That’s why therapy feels different.

My therapist doesn’t try to talk me out of whatever I’m feeling. She doesn’t need me to stop crying so she can feel like she helped. She lets me talk. She lets me be angry. She lets me cry. She lets me sit in whatever emotion showed up that day and figure out how to get through it.

She doesn’t try to make me feel better.

And somehow, that makes me feel better.

I swear, I don’t know where I’d be without my therapist.

I also know I need to start finding reasons to leave the house that aren’t doctor’s appointments, errands, funeral arrangements or something I have to do.

I need to find things that remind me there’s still a world outside of this house.

And I will.

Soon.

But then another part of my brain reminds me that it hasn’t even been a month since my mom died.

Although somehow, it’s almost been a whole month.

How?

How is that even possible?

It feels like yesterday. Sometimes it feels like five minutes ago.

I know eventually I have to stop doing only the bare minimum and really dive back into living. I know I need to get out of bed. I know I need to make art. I know I need to work. I know I need to leave the house and experience things and laugh and build whatever this next part of my life is supposed to become.

I know all of that.

But maybe right now I just don’t want to.

Maybe knowing what I need to do and being ready to do it are two completely different things.

I don’t know.

I’m rambling.

It’s been storming today.

At one point, it got so dark outside that it looked like someone had suddenly turned off the day.

I used to be terrified of storms when I was a kid.

Now I find them strangely soothing.

The thunder rolls through the house. The rain hits the windows. The wind makes everything outside move.

For a little while, the house isn’t so damn quiet.

Maybe that’s why I like storms now.

They fill the silence for me.

And today, I really needed something to fill the silence.