The Messy Middle

Evidence from the fight: part glow up, part blow up.

September 19,2025
I was born in the middle.
The middle child. The middle of the fight.
I don’t write in neat beginnings or tidy endings I write in the middle.
Not black, not white. Grey.
The weight, the grind, the frustrations, the little sparks.
This is where my life actually happens between the glow ups and the blow ups.

I have no idea where this is going. Glow up or blow up, this is the middle I’m in.

Exhibit B – The Couch

September 19, 2025

I sat on the couch with my dogs, feet up on the coffee table, back screaming louder than I wanted to admit.

It wasn’t even noon and I was already drained, but Livvie was coming home and I refused to let her see me empty.

This is the evidence:

That even when I collapse, I still rise for them.

That even battle mode bends into mother mode.

Exhibit C – The Mirror

Exhibit C proves survival doesn't need applause the mirror is enough evidence.

I’ve been in battle mode so long I don’t even know how to take a compliment.

The mirror doesn’t clap when I survive another day it just stares back, daring me to name my worth.

But here’s the evidence:

I’m still standing.

Bruised, bent, back screaming but standing.

And if survival counts as Exhibit A and Exhibit B, then Exhibit C is proof I’m more than the case file.

Exhibit E – The Dogs

Proof that joy still insists, loyal, and loud.

Charlie lounges like the wind is his stylist.

Jackson curls in for storytime, waiting for my voice like it’s gospel.

They don’t care about OWCP letters, broken backs, or bureaucratic nonsense.

They care about laps, crumbs, and the sound of my laugh when I forget the weight for a second.

This is the proof:

Life still insists on joy, even in the rubble.

Two wagging tails remind me that home isn’t polished or perfect—it’s loyal, loud, and alive.

Exhibit E is evidence that I am still rooted here.

Not in paper stacks, not in signatures—but in fur, paws, and the thump-thump of belonging.

The Messy Middle: Case File Exhibits

   •   Exhibit A – The Resurrection (the MacBook comes back to life)

   •   Exhibit B – The Couch (the drained body that still shows up)

   •   Exhibit C – The Mirror (learning to take up space, even with scars)

   •   Exhibit D – The Daughter (choosing hope so she doesn’t see you empty)

   •   Exhibit E – The Dogs (loyalty and grounding, tails thumping through the chaos)

This is not polished. This is not finished.

This is evidence.

Exhibit A – The resurrection. This is where the fight begins.

September 18, 2025
This old MacBook came back to life the same day I decided I wasn’t done either. It’s not pretty, but it boots up and so do I.
I’m not showing the whole fight here yet. Just the symbol: a messy desk, a glowing screen, me stuck in the middle.

Exhibit B proves exhaustion isn’t the end it’s the cost of showing up.

Exhibit D – The Daughter

Exhibit D proves brilliance is inherited -heart first, brain bright.

She’s coming home today.

Livvie. My brilliant, biochemistry-brained, heart-first daughter.

My back is screaming, my body begging for a white flag, but I won’t let her see me drained. Not today. Not ever if I can help it.

Because she deserves a mother who glows, not just survives.

A mother who shows her that even when life guts you, you can still sit tall on the couch, feet up, dogs sprawled around you, and make it look like a throne.

This is the evidence:

Strength doesn’t always roar.

Sometimes it’s the quiet decision to tuck away your exhaustion and hand your child hope instead.

Closing Statement

Not polished.

Not finished.

But Standing.

This is not just my story. This is my evidence.