A return to writing

however sloppy it is, it heals.

Where to start except to start

When Eve goes down for a nap (if I’m not taking one with her, which has become, admittedly, the norm over the last few months), I think of the 10000 things that need to get done and I settle on one. (I sometimes (rarely) finish it before she wakes because that’s what being a single sleep-deprived mother is - a beautiful mess, realizing none of it matters except sanity and giving my child the most joyful and peaceful childhood.) Today, that one is FINALLY starting a substack.

And I’m going to tell you why in this first submission.

But first I want to say, if you’re new to my writing, welcome. I started out as a writer, moved to teacher and coach, then to shampoo saleswoman, then I quit it all to become a mom… and here I am back full circle as a writer. My most favorite creative outlet is writing because it feels like a conversation between us. So, if you’re reading this, I am having a conversation with you.

And I’d actually love to hear from you if you want to subscribe and engage with my content.

I write stream of consciousness, usually coming back to add punctuation, so if it feels like I’m talking to you, again - I am.

I’ll pause to say here, the list of “shoulds” that a mother has is astounding. I haven’t washed my hair in 9 days. I should wash my hair. I look around me at the toys everywhere, the high chair that needs washing off, the laundry on the couch that needs folding, the list of properties my realtor sent me that needs to be examined, the texts that are unread, the thousands of emails and dms in my multiple inboxes… I mean, the list goes on and on and on, doesn’t it? But here I am doing for myself something that I love and for that - there is nothing else but admiration for myself in this moment.

Good job, angela.

Many of you found me on instagram, some of you a decade + ago, where I would post a single unglamourous photo of my lonely life with a long, complex stream of consciousness caption. The caption is what I became famous for, though famous is used *quite lightly. Famous to the 50,000+ people who came to read them regularly. After that account was cancelled, the number dwindled to 15k or so. Though, I can credit my reddit obsessors for a lot of fame recently. I don’t know what they see in me, but I guess… thank you? More on the Redditors later…

Many of you found me thanks to the “haters,” so for them I am grateful!

But I want to back up and talk about that lonely life, because I’m not saying that to garner any sort of pity. I mean it quite literally. I was in a relationship that was meant to end in marriage. After a fight over finances (on our first date, he promised me a trip to India and beyond… then I realized every single thing he purchased was a “write off” which became an ethical conflict), he left me on thanksgiving. THANK GOD God was always looking out for me, though, because that relationship was so whackadoodle. I mean, a man who drank his own pee and preyed on the teenage yoga students who frequented his cult yoga