Bedroom Upgrade

Before I get into the home reno stuff, I wanted to say thank you.
Thank you for reading my words and reaching out. Thank you to those that have been listening.

The grief, anxiety, and depression following my miscarriage comes in waves, and I'm working through them. I cry a lot at night after bedtime, and at some point I think I should try to get actual sleep, so have finally thrown in the towel and will be working with a therapist.

I have always felt guilty for dumping my issues on others, so why not dump it on someone that gets paid to be dumped on? (that came out wrong...but you get it.)

Also, I wanted to tell you a quick story.

So, Crash is buried in our back yard, and I swear Burn can still smell his scent, which at first made me really upset. It was like he was looking for him but could never find him.

*cue water works*

But now, Burn goes over to the site and pees on it.

And it makes me laugh.

See, this was their shtick when they were together.
They would always try to one-up each other's markings by peeing on top of the other pup's pee.
Crash always got the first and last pee when he was around.
So now Burn finally wins.  :)

I know....I'm weird for that being a happy story to me. Whatever.

Anywaaaaaaays.....the real topic is how I'm spending my time during these winter months.

To say I am a creature of habit is an understatement.
In January, I basically just sleep and zone out a lot. The holidays take a lot out of me and I feel like my body and mind have to reset. Then, gradually, as we sit here staring at each other, and deep clean all the crevices of our home because everything is just. so. gross, I start to get the itch to dust off my Interior Design degree and get a little creative.

I have been dreaming about giving our bedroom a face-lift for a while.

We chose the room with very little space on the inside, just enough to fit our beds.
(yes, there are two...um hi, have you met me? I'm the lightest sleeper and my husband likes to thrash around all night. No sleep means Tia is a mega-bitch for the following day and NO ONE wants to deal with that. I'm bitchy enough as it is.)

Moving on.

This room leads out to the roof-top balcony, which is way more exciting than a few extra square feet in a room where we basically just sleep.

I love the character in our home.
All the walls are slightly imperfect, textured plaster, from nearly 100 years ago.

We are always very careful with renovations; to preserve the integrity of the home but keep it stylish and timeless. Like a little Midwestern oasis.



Down the hall from our bedroom, is the bathroom we renovated two years ago:
And as you come in our front door, you are greeted with the lobby I gave a face-lift:

The issue with our bedroom is I'm having a hard time deciding how I want it to feel.
I like both the moody, darker look, and the light and airy look.
Like these:

I have been collecting pieces over the last couple of months and will renovate in the coming months.

Keeping our ever-tight budget in mind, the upgrade will consist of paint, new light fixtures, new drapery, and new bedding. I have collected a few tables over the years that already work perfectly in the space.

So, this will be my next design project.

Hope you are all staying happy and productive as well!
Thanks for reading! XO

I'm Not Okay

...and that's okay. Here, let me explain.

You will see my smiling selfies.

You will hear me laughing with your family.

You will see me dancing with your kids.

You will see the highlights on social media.

But you won't see the tears that come flooding in at bedtime.

You will see my encouraging words typed in response to your troubling times.

You will watch me take on each and every day.

You will see me smile when you walk in the door.

You will feel me grip your hand to stop your pain.

But you won't see me screaming at my husband because I don't know how to control my rage.

You will see me baking goodies.

You will watch me pour myself into projects.

You will watch me graciously turn away details about our future with (or without) a baby.

You will hear me pour my heart out and say everything is alright.

But you won't see me clenching my fists until my nails make my palms bleed.

You will see me posting funny and adorable photos of my bulldog.

You will watch me poke fun at myself.

You will hear joy in my voice.

You will reconnect with me soon, if not already.

But you won't see the evil texts I send my husband because he doesn't understand that I need a hug in lieu of a solution.

You won't see me taking out the hard times on him behind closed doors.

You won't see the struggle this miscarriage has placed on our marriage.

You won't see the sadness.

You won't see the worry.

For every hundred good moments in every week, there is always something that triggers my sadness.

There is always something that makes me re-hash the day my baby left me.

And I push all those thoughts way down, deep in my gut, trying to hide them.

Because they are so very ugly.

A lot of times I don't even realize it's happening.

But my husband is so smart and picks up on it right away.

And he remembers every time.

I have to sit down and have him re-tell me just how often the anger wins.

Because the anger is blinding.

I'm not okay.

Not fully.

Not yet.

And that's okay.

Far too often I am neglecting my own feelings.

Far too often I am trying to fit back into the social norm that seems acceptable.

Far too often I am risking my marriage just so Mark and I don't have to keep talking about it.

Far too often I am still sad but don't realize it.

Far too often I am mad, because I'm still sad, and then all the suppressed emotions come bubbling to the surface and explode in a fit of uncontrollable rage.

Far too often.

There is absolutely no excuse for the hurt I am causing him because of these blow-ups.

But I am human.

And I am dealing with something I have never dealt with before.

And it's ugly.

And raw.

(and I do apologize, profusely, after my mind is functioning again.)

You will likely never see the dark path we sometimes lead behind closed doors.

But we are walking it.

It's a constant balance of treading too lightly, suppressing thoughts as they come up, and not letting this consume our lives.

I'm not okay.

But I know it's okay to not be okay with this.

It's okay to not pretend like it didn't happen.

It's okay to be vulnerable.

It's okay to argue.

I'm not okay.

But I will be.

Every day is another day to make it the best one I can make.

Every day is another opportunity to triumph where I failed before.

I keep trying to get to a point where talking about the miscarriage doesn't cause anger and sadness a couple days afterward, but to be honest, it might never be that way.

So I will keep working towards accepting that part too.

I'm not okay, but I will be.

Thank you for reading. XO