A fresh post for today, almost a month after my last.

My first cup is still kicking in, so excuse the fumbling. There are good writing days and bad ones. Today is leaning towards the latter. It’s important to write on days when I’m not feeling it.

Like a fresh cup of coffee, the beginning of each month brings excitement and little stirring.

The stirring may slosh coffee onto the countertop, or it could leave sugar sitting in the bottom of the mug.

It can also make the best damn cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted.

The odds for the stirring of my coffee (and the start of each month) are something my brain constantly assesses. When you have a strong imagination with a sprinkle of anxiety, every day becomes its own story.

I’m still getting used to this uncertainty. I’ve talked about it with just about everyone–parents, my boyfriend, friends, the cats, and my therapist. I hate that no one can give me absolutes. I can’t even give them to myself. And I’m slowly learning that the world will still turn and not spin wildly off its axis if I don’t know for sure what I’ll be doing next week. Or in the next six months. Or six years.

It’s easy to write with confidence about the unpredictability here. I’m much better at writing my thoughts out than speaking them. However, putting the above into practice in daily life is hard. Making sense of it is difficult. Writing about it on this blog, with its little readership, helps.

Even now, I’m pushing through the hesitancy of posting this. It’s not my best work. But it’s honest, it’s me, and I’m gonna hit publish.

Thoughts and discussion are always welcome. Thanks for reading!