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I don’t meditate.

At least, not the way most people do. Sitting still like that drives me crazy, and my monkey brain goes nuts finding things to turn up and go over and the worst possible time.

I need a a basic, repetitive, physical activity to keep myself just occupied enough to go where I need to go.

So I play on the swings.

Sometimes, it blows my mind how fundamentally I’m the same human I was at 8. Well, except that I’ll go have a cocktail first.

It’d been a blissfully long weekend, but I needed to get grounded like whoa. I’ve been going so hard the past couple months.

My work has been excellent and exhausting, with the Funnel Cake Fix revolutionizing the way I do business and consider how it can be done.

I’m getting better and embracing and leaning into the unexpected. It’s easier when it feels this natural.

I am six weeks out from a court date that will change the rest of my life, my family’s lives.

And of course, I haven’t stopped for more than a couple hours at a time.

So today, when my body told me to fuck off, I shouldn’t have been surprised. I started throwing up at 4 in the morning and kept it up for hours. It would’ve been better if it were a hangover, but it was pretty clear this was the result of me abusing my body too many days in a row. So here I am, trying to work from the couch in mostly brain dead state.

Mostly, I keep thinking through all of the things that had to happen to get me here. All of the steps left to take before I can really say I’m happy with where I’ve come.

It’s a very long walk. Maybe I should drive instead.