I woke up to an empty(ish) house for the second morning today. My five-month-old son and two pups are here, all three sleeping peacefully while a light rain hits the roof.

Ahhhhhhhhh.

I exhale air from the base of my lungs that likely entered my body many months ago. The realization of its exit is both refreshing and torturing. Only now, in this stillness, can I feel how wound up my body has been.

I keep glancing outside to take in the scenery. An even thin layer of clouds covers the sky, filtering the harsh sunlight of the last few days. It provides a gentle grey backdrop contrasted with bright green grass, fresh from the rain. It’s an atmosphere my soul resonates with.

My favorite “chill” album plays in the background while I sip my bougie single-origin cup of Ethiopian coffee. The last time I played it on repeat like this was a few years ago when I escaped to Maine on a solo trip. I had needed a brief getaway from day-to-day life that had become nearly unmanageable.

The trip came a little over a year after our first son joined our home. Becoming a mom for the first time to a kid with seven years of life already under his belt wasn’t as glorious as Instagram made it look. My heart was fully swooned by him – yet that didn’t erase the trauma of his past or present circumstances – trauma that would soon bring unexplored traumas to the surface for my husband and me.

Written a couple months ago when I went all the way to Canada to hit the “reset” button. This is what I’m striving for in 2020. Want to join me?

*S E L F C A R E*

It’s one of those blog topics that automatically makes me want to barf it’s so millennial. Then again, I love boots and Starbucks, and I upload pics of my dog to Instagram daily, so I might as well fully embrace the millennialism. I’m currently sitting in Ontario, Canada, with my phone off drinking a pumpkin spice latte (see previous millennial note). I drove here yesterday to try something for the first time ever: explore and relax somewhere random – alone.  

So far today, I baked myself a huge breakfast, sipped a mimosa by the lake, explored the southern tip of Canada at a national park, and ate an oven-fired maple bacon butternut squash pizza (say that five times fast).

Full disclosure: about two hours ago, 26 hours into this getaway of mine, I inhaled a deep breath of Canadian air, and cried a little. 

It wasn’t a long or dramatic cry – just a couple tears. But those tears held immeasurable meaning.

When Brandon and I decided to buy a home in need of some major TLC, I knew it was going to cause some stress, but considering my nickname is “JoJo” I assumed I would easily kick into Joanna Gaines mode.

Ummm…no.

I’m apparently more like the JoJo from JoJo’s Circus.

Have you ever been caught in the middle of a storm while driving on the highway? I’m talking about the kind of storm when you can’t even see out your windshield the rain is coming down so hard, let alone see the cars around you.

I was caught in one with my husband just a couple weeks ago. We were passing through Cincinnati headed home when the downpour began. I knew that if we were going to make it out of this thing I had to stay focused on the road ahead, remain calm, and keep my eyes and ears open. My muscles were on high alert, ready to make a last-second move if a car slammed on its brakes or an accident occurred in front of us. I knew if I even as much blinked I was putting us in danger.

There was one issue with all of this, though…

I wasn’t the one driving.

Brandon was.

But for some reason I felt like my focus and attention was somehow keeping us safe and controlling the situation.

Have I ever mentioned I’m a recovering control-freak?

Well here’s what I’m learning lately…

My tendency is to do this on a daily basis.

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My little brother used to close one eye, hold his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart from each other up to his open eye and “smush” me. I probably deserved it most of the time.

Isn’t distance perception a funny thing, though? That a nearly 5’9” person can seemingly fit between two tiny fingers?

Big things can seem really small sometimes.

When it comes to present issues in our lives though, doesn’t it seem to feel just the opposite?

Small things seem mammoth.

And most of the time we don’t even realize they are small until we are farther away from them. Then, we glance over our shoulder, hold our thumb and pointer finger an inch a part, and easily “smush” them.