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a kitchen becoming home
the other day, we moved a new piece into our kitchen—the buffet i’ve been working on and finally finished. it felt like more than just furniture sliding across the floor; it felt like the last piece of a story i’ve been quietly writing for over a year. yesterday, i started shifting our coffee mugs from
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shawnee mac: where my heart always returns
shawnee mac lakes conservation area has been a quiet thread through my life for over a decade. tucked into the edges of small-town salem, missouri, it holds two serene lakes—ziske and turner—each reflecting the sky like a secret it’s willing to share only if you linger. the moment you step onto the path, the air
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what no one tells you about loving an addict
no one really prepares you for what it means to love someone who struggles with addiction. from the outside, it can look simple—offer support, encourage treatment, stay patient. but beneath the surface is a quiet, complicated landscape that friends and families walk every day, often unseen. what no one tells you is how heavy the
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loving myself enough to know what i deserve
there was a time when i thought love was something to earn—something i had to chase, prove, or bargain for. i believed that if i worked hard enough to be agreeable, if i bent my edges just right, someone would finally stay. it took years, and more heartbreaks than i care to count, to understand
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friendship, fully grown
at thirty-six, friendship feels less like a social accessory and more like the quiet architecture of my life. it isn’t background color; it’s the framework that steadies me when everything else tilts. i used to believe friendship was about shared interests—late-night talks, inside jokes, the rush of being inseparable. those pieces still matter, but the
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when the room held its breath
today i cried in my doctor’s office. i don’t know if my doctor or my wife could hear the sound of my heart breaking, but that’s what it was. my wife made me sad. after a year of watching me live inside this pain, she sat across from me and argued about the medication that
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when the quiet asks louder than the noise
“asking for little is not a sign of smallness—it is a quiet proof of worth, a wildflower strength that blooms even when the world stays silent.” there is a rare strength in the smallest requests. the world teaches us to shout, to demand, to prove our worth by the volume of our voices, yet there
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Whispered Words | thtgrlinbloom, 🌻 