Well, hello there.

I felt the need this morning to take five minutes and say hello to you…and hello to myself.

So I’m being a bad mom and letting Sloan lay in bed with Netflix on my Nook and an orange Creamie popsicle in her hand.  Creamies are a Utah thing, I think.  I figure it’s about as healthy a breakfast as cinnamon toast, which she eats every day of her life and really, if you compare the two, I think the sugar content would be about the same.

I was going to write a post last night and then was just overcome with…TIREDNESS.  Exhaustion.  Apathy.

I’m so tired.

I feel like since my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer two and a half months ago, I’ve been running on adrenaline, nerves, and will power.  I’m doing too much.  Too much busy work and trying to keep everything perfect when it’s not.  Instead of writing, I dust the baseboards or wood blinds.

I really should be writing.

Is it a selfish and egotistical thing to say that my writing is one of the most important things in my life?  And to know that someone is reading my words and they mean something to them keeps me fulfilled?  I know I’m losing many of you due to my lack of posts.  Please come back.  Please feed my ego.  And please tell me that my words mean something to you.  Because it matters to me.

I’m going to tell you something right now.  All our lives are hard.  Shit happens.  It never ends, and it never will.  But we can be there for each other, in person, as well as through typed words on the Internet.  I know you have crap happening to you, too.  I have friends who are going through separations or divorces.  BRUTAL.  I have a friend whose mother has Lou Gehrig’s disease.  SUCKS.  We just found out yesterday that a good friend from my husband’s work was also just diagnosed with ALS as well.  DAMN IT.  A good friend from high school lost her father about six weeks ago.  HORRIBLE.  One of my favorite clients died, a completely shocking death which leaves a permanent hole in my heart.  LAME.  The father of my best friend’s children died from an insidious disease he could just not fight.  FUCKED UP.  Another good friend and her daughter have been dealing with Whooping Cough for two weeks.  WHOOPING COUGH.  Seriously??

It just doesn’t end, and I want you to know I recognize you have your stuff too.  I sympathize.  I do.  I wish we could just make it go away and jet off to Hawaii, lay on the beach, and not have to worry about our kids drowning in the ocean.  Because we deserve it.

I am here to remind myself today, while I’m saying hello, that I need to keep writing.  Even if no one else is reading it.  It is a quiet place where I can be me, say what I want, and relinquish any fears about who I am.  And I am OK.  I’m OK.

I know that sometimes in the past, I’ve written stuff that scares people.  Makes them nervous.  Words that don’t sit well with them because they think I’m losing it or I’m going to fall apart or something.

But I’m fine.  Tired, but fine.  I will be alright.  We will all be alright.  I struggle sometimes, just like you, but in the end we come out from the tunnel and we carry on.  I will always carry on.  FUCKING ALWAYS.

Usually Ace in the Hole is all about shits and giggles.  Sometimes not.

This morning I need to remind myself that shits and giggles are the best thing ever.  They keep you floating.  They save your ass.

If you ever want to accept the risk of taking me out in public after three stressful months, this is what you might end up with:

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Piper at an outdoor concert and a whole bunch of cray cray busting its way out.

I wasn’t even drunk.  I swear.

🙂

Love you all.