Hi! I'm Kelly.

As a writer, I've always been interested in family stories. When I heard of a Satanic cult in my family tree, I thought I'd found the story of a lifetime. Read more.

Room on the Bus

Room on the Bus

Yesterday's post felt like a cop-out. And yet it's all I could muster. 

I've been feeling melancholy lately. No good reason why, unless you count the sleep deprivation and massive sugar consumption. Rather than brood and complain, I'd prefer to stay under the radar until the mood passes. And yet this 365-day blogging project forces me into public view.

I'm reminded of a handwritten note I received in middle school, from a girl I thought was my best friend. It explained, in neat cursive, that she couldn't sit next to me on the bus anymore because I wasn't popular and I always complained.

I'm reminded of that note every time I arrive at the page with nothing positive to say: You're not popular and you always complain.

Blogging daily feels like being in middle school. I'm bubbling over with confidence one minute and wracked with self-loathing the next. 

There are so many things I don't know how to do yet. I don't know how to turn an uneventful day into a compelling narrative. I don't know how to turn off the marketing part of my brain. I don't know how to stop letting petty things that happened in my past define me. I don't know if any of these things are possible.

The last time I spoke with my therapist, she tasked me with letting the depression in. Fighting against it, she said, saps your energy. You know it's going to come from time to time, so why not just sit with it? 

I'm trying, even though it's uncomfortable. I'm sitting with the sadness, the insecurity, the not knowing. There's room on the bus for all of them. I've saved a seat.

11/365

The Blessings of Being a Witness

The Blessings of Being a Witness

Farm Show Shenanigans

Farm Show Shenanigans