Filly’s Place

September 6, 2026

Today was better.

Not amazing. Not wildly productive. Not some giant breakthrough where I suddenly woke up feeling like myself again.

But better.

And after the last couple of days, I’ll take better.

I had another rough night of sleep. I was up for most of it and managed to get maybe three hours total, which is obviously not ideal. My sleep schedule has been all over the place lately, and at this point I feel like my brain has just decided nighttime is for thinking about every possible thing at once.

Despite that, I got up and went to the cemetery with one of Mom’s caregivers.

I’ve been avoiding going back.

I kept telling myself I would go, then finding reasons not to. Some of those reasons were legitimate. The weather was awful. I wasn’t feeling well. I was exhausted. But if I’m being truthful, part of me just wasn’t ready.

Today I went.

And surprisingly, it helped.

I thought being there might make everything feel worse. I thought seeing their names and standing in front of where my parents are would just hammer home the fact that they’re both gone.

Instead, I felt calmer.

There was something comforting about being near them.

I know logically that they’re not just that place. They’re in my memories, my house, my art, my writing and every ridiculous little thing that reminds me of them. But standing there today still made me feel close to them in a way I wasn’t expecting.

I’m glad I went.

Maybe I needed to stop being afraid of what being there would feel like and just let myself feel whatever showed up.

Today, what showed up was a little peace.

I could use more of that.

A Little Shop Progress

When I got home, I did a few things in the shop.

Not much.

I’m still feeling kind of blah, and three hours of sleep certainly didn’t turn me into a productivity machine. But I got a few things done, which is more than I managed the last couple of days.

So again, I’ll take it.

I’m starting to notice that my definition of a successful day has changed dramatically.

A successful day used to mean I crossed fifteen things off a list.

Now sometimes it means I left the house, did one thing that scared me, worked for a little while and didn’t completely emotionally collapse afterward.

Different standards.

Same stubborn person.

Then Beaker Tried to Give Me a Heart Attack

Because naturally we couldn’t have a relatively calm day without Beaker deciding to spice things up.

The little dickhead almost ran off.

One minute everything was fine, and the next I was apparently participating in an unexpected cardio and agility test courtesy of my dog.

Thankfully, his recall is actually pretty good.

Once he realized his grand adventure wasn’t going quite the way he imagined, I called him and got him back within a few minutes.

A few very long minutes.

Apparently Beaker looked at me today and thought, You know what Mom needs? A burst of adrenaline.

Thanks, buddy.

Really appreciate it.

I guess I can confirm that I am still capable of moving very quickly when sufficiently motivated.

So that’s something.

Dick.

But seriously, I’m incredibly grateful he came back when I called. That could have gone very differently, and I don’t even want to think about that.

He is currently forgiven.

Mostly.

Better

Today wasn’t a totally shit day.

That feels worth saying.

I barely slept. I’m still tired. I’m still grieving. I’m still feeling a little emotionally and physically drained.

But I went to see my parents.

And instead of destroying me, it helped.

I worked in the shop for a little while.

Beaker attempted an escape and successfully reminded me that my cardiovascular system still functions.

And tonight I feel a little better than I did yesterday.

Not fixed.

Not healed.

Just better.

I think I’m finally understanding that sometimes that’s all I’m looking for.

Not some giant leap forward.

Just a day that hurts a little less than the one before it.

We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

Hopefully more sleep.

And significantly fewer Beaker escape attempts.

September 5, 2026

I really thought today was going to be a better day.

It wasn’t.

I don’t know if this is depression, if I’m genuinely not feeling well, if I’ve pushed myself too hard lately, or if it’s some unholy combination of all three. Whatever it is, I could not find the energy to do much of anything today.

I slept until almost 4 p.m.

I did briefly get up around 8:30 this morning to take my meds, feed Beaker and let him outside, but after that I crawled right back into bed and apparently my body decided we were done participating in Saturday.

When I finally got up around four, I managed to eat something.

So the basics happened.

Not particularly gracefully, but they happened.

Now I’m sitting in bed sorting my Monopoly token collection because apparently organizing hundreds of tiny metal game pieces is about the level of productivity my brain is capable of today.

Honestly, I’ll take it.

At least I accomplished something.

Heavy

That’s really the only word I can find for how I feel today.

Heavy.

Emotionally drained. Physically exhausted. Like someone turned gravity up a few notches and forgot to tell me.

I don’t even know how to explain it properly because there isn’t necessarily one specific thing wrong today. I’m just tired in a way that sleep doesn’t seem to fix.

Maybe I’ve been pushing myself too much.

I’ve been trying really hard not to sit inside the grief all day every day. I’ve been working on the house, organizing my office, getting the shop together, dealing with estate stuff, going to appointments, writing, making plans and trying to build some kind of routine again.

Basically, I’ve been trying to do life stuff so I don’t spend every waking moment thinking about how much I miss my mom.

Maybe my brain finally called bullshit.

Maybe all of that distraction still takes energy, even if it feels better than lying in bed crying.

Maybe this is my body’s way of saying, Hey asshole, could you slow down for five fucking minutes?

Apparently.

I thought I was getting the whole day-by-day thing down.

Turns out I’m still terrible at it.

No surprise there.

Tomorrow

I’m going to try to go to the cemetery tomorrow.

I’ve been saying that for a while now, and I still haven’t brought myself to do it.

Maybe tomorrow will be the day.

I’m not going to force it. If I get there, I get there. If I don’t, I’ll try again another day.

That’s probably the healthiest sentence I’ve written in this blog, and I hate it.

Monday is a holiday, so I don’t think I’m going to plan much for that day either.

Maybe laundry.

Yes, Mount Laundry is returning.

I said I was going to get myself back into a weekly routine, and then last week happened and that absolutely did not occur.

So perhaps Monday we conquer it again.

Perhaps.

And Then There’s Spain

There’s also an event happening in Spain in October with some of my favorite Spanish actresses.

And I kind of want to go.

Okay.

I really kind of want to go.

Part of me thinks maybe getting away and doing something completely different is exactly what I need right now. Something exciting. Something that has nothing to do with doctors, grief, estates, paperwork or cleaning my house.

Just get on a plane and go experience something.

But October is also 31 Days of Halloween.

And I love 31 Days of Halloween.

This will be Season 7, and over the years it’s become one of those projects I genuinely look forward to. It’s creative. It’s ridiculous. It gives me an excuse to make spooky shit for an entire month.

Technically, I could skip a few days.

The Halloween police probably aren’t coming to arrest me.

But I don’t know if I want to.

Maybe there’s a way to do both.

Maybe there isn’t.

Maybe I shouldn’t be planning international travel while I’m lying in bed sorting Monopoly tokens because I slept until 4 p.m.

Details.

We’ll see.

I feel like I’m saying “we’ll see” a lot lately.

Probably because that’s the only honest answer I have for most things right now.

Will I go to the cemetery tomorrow?

We’ll see.

Will I do laundry Monday?

We’ll see.

Will I suddenly fly to Spain in October?

We’ll see.

Will I wake up tomorrow feeling significantly better than I do today?

God, I fucking hope so.

For tonight, though, I’m not going to force anything.

I’m going to finish sorting a few Monopoly pieces, take a shower and try to get some decent sleep.

Maybe my brain and body are simply asking me to stop for a minute.

Maybe I should actually listen.

The ideas are still there. The projects are still there. My office and shop aren’t going anywhere. Neither is 31 Days of Halloween.

I don’t have to rebuild my entire life in one month.

Apparently I need to keep reminding myself of that.

So today was heavy.

Tomorrow might be lighter.

And if it isn’t, I guess we’ll deal with tomorrow when it gets here.

Day by day.

Still hate it.

Still doing it.