Mrs. Dalloway and the Five Things I’m Afraid to Tell You


“Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.”

This is the opening to Virginia Woolf’s famous 1925 novel, Mrs. Dalloway. It’s a book about a lot of things, but mostly about day in the life of a woman who spends irrational amounts of time and energy preparing the details of a party, her party, despite the fact there is some serious emotional breakdancing busting beneath the surface and sometimes homegirl can barely keep it together. It’s a novel about time. It’s a novel about regret. It’s a novel about keeping skeletons in the closet. A beautifully decorated closet.

You should totally read it.

Sometimes, when I see bloggers spending large quantities of time on aspirational lifestyle posts, I’ll get very smug and I’ll secretly write them off into my pile of Mrs. Dalloways – people who would rather fixate on picking out flower arrangements for the internet than sorting out their in-person priorities. You probably know the type. The more uptight and perfection-like posts, the more suspicious I am of what goes on beneath the surface. Divorce? Self-loathing? Unstable finances? Hellion children? Irritable bowels?

I’m not apologizing for having those suspicions – unfortunately, they are correct more often not – but I will apologize for my own hypocrisy in perpetuating this cycle by ignoring my own unpleasantries for no other reason than they are unpleasant. Most of what you see on this site is contrived to be pretty, and although I like to think I show off my imperfections more than most, it has come to my attention that perhaps that is not case. Perhaps my skeleton closet has become too decorative to be functional.

A week ago my friend Dee tagged me on Instagram in one of those 20 Facts About Me posts, which I’m sure you have seen on social media before. You have probably done one yourself. I was hesitant because I didn’t think I had 20 interesting things to share, but I was also bored and killing time in a parking lot so I started typing away on my phone…my #1 was about tacos, #2 was about cats… by the time I got to #20 it was 7,000 words deep and talking about stuff I swore to never discuss in public. And it doesn’t matter how loud I sound my battle cry for authenticity, not all stories are mine to tell.

But you know what?

Some stories are mine to tell. They are 100% mine. And I cannot come up with any good reason to keep them to myself other than doing so would be what is expected of me. And it occurs to me now, that right there would make me the biggest Mrs. Dalloway of them all.

Oh hell no.

In 2012 a bunch of bloggers wrote confessional-style posts titled “Things I’m Afraid to Tell You” and I could not get enough of them. Despite my voracity as a reader, I was too timid or judgmental to join in.The thought of writing a post like this has sat in my mind but I never sat down to write it, that is, until Dee tagged me and then I wrote this post (and then some) without trying. Now it’s just a matter of editing.

So I guess that means I’m three years late to the party, but sometimes that happens when you are busy buying flowers.

1. I am terrified of losing everything.
When I joke around in my posts about having hoarding tendencies, it’s not really a joke. I’m not a legit hoarder yet, but that tapeworm lives inside me. I hold on to material things because the emotional ones have a history of getting away. The easy answer is that this comes from two dead parents by the age of 20, but really, I’m terrified of losing everything. Always. People often associate hoarding with childhoods in abject poverty, but my story could not be more different. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I’m going to break this down. I grew up in what my parents called, “financially comfortable surroundings” in a famously conservative town, on the edge of a golf course, just down the road from a former President of the United States. We had a nice house, a pool, a couple of convertibles…you get the picture. I rarely wore the same outfit twice. When I was 17 I graduated from a boarding school in Switzerland. When I was 18 my dad lost his mind. When I was 19 and we had lost everything, I shoved what I could fit into a Lexus sedan, then drove us (without a license or insurance) cross-country into a roach filled apartment in a questionable neighborhood. When I was 20, when my dad became terminally ill, I worked 3 jobs, not all of them legal, just to cover the extra medical costs that medicaid didn’t provide. Five months after diagnosis, he died alone because the hospital couldn’t reach me because the landline was disconnected and I couldn’t afford to buy cell phone minutes that week. The last night he was alive, instead of visiting him, I spent three hours waiting in line at a food pantry. While I was standing there, I remember being worried that someone might realize I was wearing a five-year old pair of $600 shoes.

Here is the thing. When you fall that far that fast, and when you feel that level of shame and financial instability, you never look at money or material goods the same way again. I’m not afraid of poverty and I am not impressed by financial wealth. I don’t have much, but what I do have is there because I put it there, and by that right, I am the only one who can take it away. I take great pleasure in putting value in things that mean something to me, not because of a price tag, but because of the love and meaning I infuse within them. I make every effort to understand and appreciate my surroundings. My environment. My clothing. My furniture. I won’t eat anything that I don’t know how to grow, kill and cook myself. Because it all boils down to this: When you understand what it takes to provide the conveniences of modern life, every day is an exercise in gratitude and wonder.

I can tell you with confidence, had I not lost everything, this never-ending hunger to be resourceful and create with my bare hands would not exist within me. This blog would not exist without that pain. I consider it my job, and my privilege, to use every day of my life to whittle that pain into joy. Sparkly, glittered, weird-yet-rad kind of joy. And although you might not always see how the sausage is made, or the fear in my eyes, or the Sanford and Son situation going on in my basement, just knowing y’all are here with me makes it a lot easier. Thanks for being here.

2. I can barely read.
You think I’m exaggerating, but it’s a lot closer to the truth than you might suspect. I read books slower than most seven-year-olds. No, really. Seven-year-olds. I cannot read more than ten words in a row out loud. I have had a half-dozen education professionals diagnose me with some variation of secondary dyslexia, none of who could offer much guidance besides “work at your own pace.” Somewhere along the line an English teacher noticed that even if I could not read quickly, I could write at the same rate as he spoke (shout out to Mr. Bolton!) and that was a talent worth exploring. This also means that, if I find my rhythm, I can think and speak and type at roughly the same rate. That makes writing large quantities of text (LIKE THIS, HELLO) comes easily for me. It’s like having a one-sided conversation. Sometimes, if I can’t work a problem out in my brain, I type it out in garbldygook until it smoothes itself out into manageable sentences. Many of which end up published here, but most of which will never see the light of day. If you are a linear thinker, that will make almost no sense to you. If you are a visual thinker, a light bulb probably just went off above your head. I don’t know why brains are constructed this way.

Please understand, just because I struggle to read doesn’t mean I avoid it. I’m just slow. Really slow. I’ll absorb every detail of a book. I can read a novel and remember the color of a third-tier character’s dress 10 years later. It’s the things that need to be read quickly give me a hard time. Road signs from a moving vehicle are rough (one of several reasons I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was nearly 30). Movie credits make my eyes spin. I’ll read someone’s tweet three times before commenting to make sure I understood the intention behind it. Fortunately, I don’t have this problem with my own words because, well, they are mine. I know what I mean. However, I do struggle with editing and proofreading my own words, which is not an unusual problem for writers in general, but it gets especially tricky when you throw my particular brand of inconvenience. Homonyms are a nightmare. Is it to, two, or too? I know all three are real words but which one is right one? <<< That there. I had to second guess if it was the “right one” or the “write one” because these are both real words but the context scrambles in my head and it takes a moment to remember my first grade teacher explaining the difference. Only then can I unscramble the two. <<<See that is two, but when I first typed it was to. I caught it though so that’s okay. I get the impression most people don’t have to do that after a few years of school. I make these mistakes all the time. Multiple times an hour, in fact. I thought that writing a thousand words a day would stop that from happening, but it’s not getting any better. Nor is my proofreading. When I did that reader survey, I was petrified that everyone would comment on my horrible typos, but to my amazement, only three or four people mentioned it, saying, “you need to start proofreading” which is sort of soul crushing because I haven’t STOPPED proofreading in 30 years. I’m just not good at it. Despite the fact that this is a revenue-generating site, I cannot afford the money to hire a copy editor or the time to wait on a friend or volunteer (I have tried both). At this point, I accept that mistakes happen to the best of us. I am no exception. Given the choice between publishing flawed work and not publishing at all, I choose to go forward as I am. Abundantly flawed. I’m continually amazed that people put up with it, but most of you do. So thanks for that.

3. I have been overweight my entire life.
I went to fat camp when I was 11 and it’s been downhill ever since. Except for a few years in the middle, when I starved myself and ate squares of toilet paper to muffle the sound of hunger pains, I have always been heavy. I’m also pretty tall, so I’m pretty accustomed to people describing me as “the big girl” in class, in business, on the street. I’m a big girl. I have gained and lost the same 80 pounds three times. The only times I came out victorious involved starvation, prescription pills, or emotional bankruptcy. You can imagine how anxious I am to return to these patterns. I will admit, I am an emotional eater. A sad eater. A celebratory eater. But 99% of the time, I’m a self-conscious eater who is following the same crap I learned in fat camp 25 years ago. After many years of self-loathing, I have come to accept that the only times I have ever come near “thin” was from unhealthy habits, and I will be a happier and healthier person if I can put self-acceptance before my vanity. I just gave up. And you know what? It feels surprisingly good. Yes, I would like to be thinner than I am now, and I am aware of the many steps it will take to get there, most of which are outlined in the dictionary-sized book on my nightstand right now, but it also feels strangely empowering to not give a crap about what others think of my size.

A couple of years ago an old friend sat me down to have a heart-to-heart about my weight gain (AS IF I HAD NOT NOTICED IT?) And although I know she meant well, it really annoyed me that she kept pestering about all her own personal diet and exercise habits followed by this thing over and over: “I just want you to be happy.” and “I’m just looking out for your happiness.” and “Don’t you want to be happy?” And that is when it dawned on me: she didn’t think anyone could be fat and happy. Her own happiness depended on her physical appearance and she automatically applied that same principal to me. To everyone. Sufficient to say, the rest of the conversation became about her and her needs before she would lay off me. And while I often still feel totally insecure about my looks, and I am acutely aware of how my physical well-being trickles into to every aspect of my life, I refuse to live by somebody else’s expectations. I’m me. Fat or thin or in between. Of all the many things I need to improve about myself, the size of my ass isn’t making the to-do list right now.

4. I am never not aware of my lack of children.
Most people reading this do not realize that I was stepmom/caretaker/mama bear for a little girl, from age 20 months to four and a half. The circumstances of how she came into my life or why she left are not mine to tell, but I can say with great confidence that saying goodbye nearly killed me. I rarely speak about this, even with my closest friends, because it usually involves me being told I should have never let myself get attached like that to child that wasn’t my own, which only feeds into my fear of inevitable loss (see navel gazing item #1).

Anyway. I’ll skip the gory details, but the deal is that her father and I haven’t been on speaking terms for years and that means I am no longer allowed in her life. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her. Sometimes I find myself stalking the Facebook photos of friends with kids of similar age so I can keep tabs of what she might be doing in school, or what music she might be listening to, or what clothes are in style for girls her age. It’s not healthy. When I’m around small children in real life, I often find myself withdrawn. It’s not that I’m disinterested, it’s just that I have a lot of emotional baggage in this department and it takes a lot of effort to keep it together and focus on the positive (read: “Ring-Ring. Hello. Mrs. Dalloway called. She wants her character arc back.”)

There was a time when the only thing in the world I wanted to be was a parent. Right now, it’s not even in my top ten. I’m 35 now, which is the age most women are expected to yield to the pounding of their biological clock, or at very least, make a choice about what path they want to take. I feel like that choice was made for me, which makes things a little easier, but those pangs of fear and heartbreak are never far beneath the surface.

And this is where it gets fun. To salt the wound, as part of running this “lifestyle” blog, I get a daily parade of inquiries about potential sponsorship opportunities, which usually lead to a marketing demographic questionnaire, which usually includes a question about how many children I have, which is usually when I close the box and go into a self-comforting spiral on Facebook. After four years of those of those questionnaires, I know full well, as soon as they ask me if I have kids, that means they won’t work with me because I’m not a mother (one of them flat out told me so). On the rare occasion a sponsor does want to work with me, I’m so grateful I feel like I owe them a limb or something. I mean, I get it. Running a craft blog and not having kids is an unusual combo. It’s not the marketing industry’s fault. That’s just a fact that I need to accept. And while I have never felt sorry for myself for not having children, I constantly feel jilted and envious of other bloggers. I know that making this dream financially succeed would come much faster if I had a kid in the picture. I worry that this resentment will get worse and eventually I’ll be 40, wildly bitter, and someone will say OH GOSH. I’M SO SORRY YOU NEVER HAD CHILDREN and then I’ll be like SHUT UP CLOWNHOLE. I WENT TO PARIS FOR THE WEEKEND AND DIDN’T HAVE TO HIRE A BABY SITTER. HOW WAS YOUR SATURDAY AT SPONGE BOB ON ICE?

So that is something to look forward to.

5.Most of the people I know in real life do not read this blog.
Years ago, I had worked with a guy who wrote a soccer blog who I eventually began avoiding because I didn’t want to schedule time to study his soccer blog before every conversation. “Did you see what I said about Brazil’s goalie getting smashed in the final round?” And then I’d have to pretend I cared. And I didn’t. I cannot describe the vastness of the crap I did not give about that soccer blog. Likewise, I get that not everyone is into crafts and decorating and copper pudding molds. Who am I to put that burden on them? So I never told my friends. I mentioned it here or there, and those people told a few people, but it’s never taken off as a conversation topic. On one hand, that’s totally fine because I don’t know every detail of my friend’s days and jobs and personal lives. On the other hand, it feels very strange because this blog has morphed into a lot of stuff that isn’t just about crafts and stuff. It’s complicated. It’s personal.


Currently, I have this giant group of people who know deeply personal things about me from reading them on my website but do not know me personally at all…then I have a smaller group of people who know me from real life but never know what I’m talking about online…and then there is this very small group, only about four people, that overlap in both camps. Those are three separate groups, and sometimes I fear I have a different persona for each. This bothers me. This feels phony. This makes me feel like I’m being phony to all three groups, and possibly myself. This is something I would like to fix.

I see that there are two primary options here;

1. I can try to change other people.

2. I can work on myself. Instead of trying to keep three personas for three groups of people, I can cut the crap and try to be as close to myself, my real self, as possible. To be authentic. To be honest. Not just with you guys but with myself.

That survey, that one I mentioned earlier, has been such an eye opener for me. I have learned many things, but most of all, I cannot please everyone. There will always be someone who dislikes me. If someone is going to dislike me I would rather it be for the real me, and not who I am pretending to be. And why was I even holding back on myself and trying to be someone else?

Again, here comes Mrs. Dalloway in her big-ass hat…

Look, if I have kept an arms-length distance on things in the past, it is because I was afraid of criticism and rejection. After that survey, I have been criticized and rejected, not in mass, but enough to know that it stings. It’s unpleasant. It brings out the ugliness in me. I can choose to wallow in that ugliness, or I can use it to do what I do best: survive, move on, and find the beauty in anything.

So that is me. That is what I know. In a minute I’m going to press publish and my knees might buckle from being so NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THIS. But. You know what? It already feels good to tear off this bandage. It feels liberating. And terrifying.

Thanks for listening all this time and allowing me a place to share my anxieties here. This was a really long post. I don’t expect most people to read it. Forgive my arrogance and please understand that I’m not looking for advice or a pity party or comments, I’m looking for public accountability. For myself. Most of the time I write these posts with you guys in mind, but today I write this for myself. Just writing this down has helped me already. If you want, I would encourage you to do the same when you are ready. It took me three years to muster up the courage but I’m so glad I did.

Thanks to Dee for tagging me on that 20 things instagram post while I was sitting in that parking lot, and thanks to Jess for setting off that series of posts back in 2012, as well as Grace, who recently put the worm back in my ear. Isn’t it strange when all the internet unknowingly conspires together to give you the kick in the pants that you need?

Okay. It’s time. I’m going to press PUBLISH.

Here we go…



  1. says

    I read the book sometime ago. And I must admit that I skimmed this true confession, ’cause time is pressing this morning. Apologies. Nothing like a party, though. Especially Ricky Nelson’s “Garden Party.” Something tells me he nailed it for you, when writing this song after an unsuccessful return at MSG, many moons ago:

    “But it’s all right now, I learned my lesson well.
    You see, ya can’t please everyone, so ya got to please yourself”

    Jeesh, wish he’d lived longer.

    • aunt peaches says

      Yep, that was a very catchy chorus.

      • says

        Made it back to read more thoroughly, Auntie. Sad post. Always knew your daily and wonderful humor was masking the deep darkness within. You’ve alluded to it, often. It’s analogous to the stories of so many, like Robin Williams, for example. Spilling your guts online to a bunch of aliens might work for you, as an audience did for him… but they are temporary fixes… and surely you DO write for comments or you’d disable them…

        My hope is that you have someONE, or some-TWO or some-THREE to whom you can express all this – face to face. Virtual catharsis is one thing, but the road to peace can’t be found here. And SO TOTALLY do I agree with finding the beauty somewhere, somehow in each day. Joie de vivre. Clearly, you’ve conquered that arena. However…

        You’ve so many heartfelt responses, yet there is not one offer of hands-on help for you… or one word of what is wrong with a few of your perceptions. No one ever disagrees with anything – interesting – and very telling of how this is SO NOT real life.

        With all that said, I truly DO hope that you’ve accomplished personal goals in writing this piece… it IS all about satisfying yourSELF (RN, above?!)… the rest follows.

        As for weight… I lost over twenty pounds during a recent illness. Sure, I’m liking the result (out of all bad… blah, blah). But in reality? I’d rather have kept the twenty and not been so frighteningly sick. Mangia!

        For the losses of your parents and the child (lucky to have known you), I can only express my deepest sympathies. xo N

        • aunt peaches says

          Hmmm. I’m not really sure what to say to that. I wrote a post about breaking perceptions of perfection by illustrating some of my flaws (emphasis on *some*) in hopes that it might encourage people to be honest with themselves. It’s a cathartic process and I wanted to share a piece of it as I do with many of my creative processes. If it came off as sad or dark that was not my intention, but that is the thing about perception. We really don’t get to control as much as we think we do.

          For the record, I get a lot of not-nice comments. The positive outweighs to negative, and that positive feedback is pretty vital, but it’s definitely not why I blog.

          • says

            Your response is as expected. It’s very noble to attempt “the save,” as you perceive your readers to need saving. Did you poll them as part of your survey? Remember, though, “honest” exposés or analyses of our lives always include mention of others. Hmmm. Perhaps others who would prefer not to be included in internet true confessions?? Many go so far as to not wanting their images online. Even you did not post a selfie for a very, very long time. It’s interesting that you’ve tossed privacy aside – obviously a cathartic move for you. This I celebrate. However, I’d like your post a whole lot more if you weren’t driven by this need to push the concept on others. The power of suggestion might suffice?? I think you’ve an adult audience…

            …albeit flawed adult audience. Who perceives him/herself as perfect? Another poll?

            My view, by the way, perhaps comes from being thirty years older than you. The “internet couch” wasn’t available for life’s solutions, back in the day. Still – my generation of Boomers clearly thought we’d idealistically save the world…

            Now, I’m signing off, having said way, way more than my “normal” in response to anything online. I’ll bring it to e-mail, if my fingers won’t stay still.

            Be Peachy…

        • Tammy says

          I too am a “baby boomer”, born in a time “where the ‘internet couch’ was not available for life’s solutions”! I too am “perhaps some thirty years older”!


          Was the idea of “idealistically saving the world” something WE suddenly thought up? Something our Boomer generation owns as a new and different concept?

          I find your swoop in…state your opinion…hear Aunt Peaches rebuttal…respond…throw around your “I’m more knowledgable than you” weight because she didn’t succumb to you and agree with your wise opinion…behavior very interesting!!


          Actually it’s pretty NORMAL for those in our generation isn’t it? For we DO think we came up with the concept of idealistically saving the world! And we don’t like it when examples come along that show us otherwise, for we are a very narssisstic generation us baby boomers!

          The internet, and other social media is no different sociolagically (am I throwing around MY weight enough now????????) for this generation than the devices available to our generation and to all generations in the past. All humans throughout all ages have, and will use what’s available to them to address issues other than “the necessary”! In outher words, people will utilize the devices available to them to address the DEEP STUFF!!!!

          For our generation, the telephone was available. I remember spending HOURS on that device working out my issues! And what a godsend call waiting was, huh? Remember Dear Abby? Columns in magazines? All were not face to face, two are examples of one’s ability to be anonymous. To generations before us, letters! Need I say more?


          I am extremely supportive of you Aunt Peaches for sharing here!

          I’m sure you’ve guessed, I’ve worked in the field of helping others for many many years! It’s those who choose to risk it and share themselves, ON THIS – GASP – SOCIAL MEDIA, who have no idea how many they’ve helped!

          Be it for selfish reasons, cathartic reasons, to get into heaven, to write a report, cause they’re an earth mother… **why**??? Doesn’t matter why someone chooses to share their stuff on social media! One needs to look at the WHAT!

          And the “what” that is happening here, on this blog, is FANTASTIC!!! For Aunt Peaches! For her followers! For her followers’ friends and families!!!!

          I for one, (in my infinite wisdom, age, educatiuon and baby boomerdom, LOL) am a better person today for reading this entry!!!

          • J.R. Shapiro says

            Therapist here. Sixty-two year old psychiatrist to be specific.

            A client sent me this url as an example of the sort of openness he would like to achieve and I share his sentiments. It’s no surprise why you are seeing encouragement here. I was about to forward this to another client before I saw this comment.

            I am not qualified to speak to much of this but make no mistake, one of the most unhelpful things people do it to each other is casually tell others to ‘get some therapy’ or ‘get some help’ in the moments they are trying to help themselves. People deserve more credit and so does my profession. This kind of attitude is profoundly harmful and one of things that keeps me in business. Making unqualified assumptions about another person’s mental health is never acceptable. As I am qualified to make an assumption on this matter, my guess would be that this woman has had, or is receiving, help from one source or another. Such person(s) have my professinal admiration.

            Aunt Peaches, you keep up whatever it is that you do. You are helping others along the way. Congratulations in your accomplishments.

          • aunt peaches says

            Thanks everyone. It saddens me that of that 950+ posts I have written, this is one of the very few that would trigger an argument. I’m tempted to delete this thread but it’s important to me that people are heard because the words here ARE important, and, I don’t think the conversation here is really about what I wrote. Nicki raises some good points. And just because I don’t always share her opinion doesn’t mean that I don’t value it. She has been coming by this site for years and has always had great suggestions. And if I can’t swallow a perspective that is different than my own, I need to get our of the blogging business.

            Dr. Shapiro, I’m very flattered that someone read this and it triggered something good inside — I know that is the reaction I had when I first saw one these “things i’m afraid to tell you posts” in 2012. And yes, you are right, I have had help. Lots of it. From friends, professionals, the bookstore, the pharmacy counter…I am most certainly one of those people who has kept you in business. I like that you wrote “the moment they are trying to help themselves” because that is very much what this is. I am trying to help myself. I am trying to remove some of the shame I feel for my past (and yes I am doing it in public because I have not been able to do it in private). I am very much a work in progress. For better or worse, the most successful tool in my toolbox is public accountability and the internet has made that very easy. That will probably make some folks really uncomfortable. That’s their problem. Not mine.

  2. Kym says

    You are so brave.
    I identify with some of the fat kid stuff….I’m still deeply uncomfortable with my own body issues…so much so that I don’t even understand what they all are. Writing it all out like this would probably lead me to a nervous break down. I’m in awe of your bravery and strength.
    thank you.

  3. says

    You remain my absolute favourite read on the internet, the voice that sounds most authentic and the blogger I would most like to have a beer with.

    • Susan says

      Hannah said it well. You are an original and this post proves it. You inspire me with your courage in everything you do.

      • Crea says

        I couldn’t agree more! All I felt was awe and inspiration the entire read. Thank you for being the beautiful bouquet of wildflowers that you are, I love you!

    • Francie says

      Drinking beer while sort our glitter stashes by color. Yes, absolutely +1

  4. Jess says

    Thanks for sharing. I’m sure it was hard to write but sometimes, we never know how the things we put into the world will make a world of change in someone’s life. There were several relatable points in here for me. Thanks for making my world a little more sparkly!

  5. Laura says

    I love reading blogs. I like scrolling through my favorites at work picking up tips and inspiration here and there. Weekend projects I promise to tackle at some point in my life. Meals I almost never mage. I know that every blogger is a human being. I like seeing what other people can do with their 24 hours. Or homes, sewing machines, craft supplies, etc. I’m also fully aware that no one’s life is perfect. Everyone tries to show their best self online.

    When I met my boyfriend he didn’t use Facebook, at all. I thought it was insane, and couldn’t fathom giving up all my “friends” I had out there. Yet as time went by, I didn’t see the need for a Facebook page anymore either. It’s such a bizarre concept when you think about it. People showing only portions of their lives to each other for self validation. Scrolling through an endless page of other people’s lives. Comparing each other’s accomplishments. Feeling down when you just don’t size up to someone else’s seemingly perfect life. I learned instead to TRY (emphasis on the word try) to appreciate everything and everyone currently around me. I focus most of my time on the people who REALLY care about me, like my family. But just like everyone else, I’m in no way the master of my happiness.

    I think it’s incredibly brave of you to create this post. You hit all the points I think about when it comes to social media and more. You are a strong person for everything that you’ve gone through. And if anything, opening up about a lot of your struggles can only widen the amount of support you already have within the people who love you.

    • aunt peaches says

      Indeed. Social media has done weird things to our relationships, even the most important ones. I fear running this type of blog might be contributing to this problem, but selfishly, I still want it to continue.

      • giddypony says

        The damage and the good have been done regarding social media. And, you want to write, and be read. So back in my day, kids made fanzines or wrote on the wall or notes to each other. And Facebook has been a way that I have met people in my own town and gone to events that I wouldn’t have otherwise….everything is a mixed bag, and there is not one best way.

    • aunt peaches says

      Thanks, Kathryn. It feels really good when other bloggers get it. I have always loved your “real house” photos on intagram for the same thing I was hoping to get at with this post. ☺️

  6. says


    thank you for writing this. you have such an eloquent, honest, beautiful way of expressing yourself.
    and it’s really refreshing to hear about a bloggers baggage/life/reality. it reminds me that we’re all in the same boat, essentially. and life is messy, weird, and heart-breakingly beautiful.

    keep on keeping on. your blog is by far my favorite of all the ones i follow, and it’s because you seem to be yourself – regardless of current trends.


  7. says

    Having quite the unexpected background story myself, I love getting to see new layers of people. I commend you for your (mostly) positive response to the events of your life. It’s a crazy ride we’re all on, that’s for sure. But we’ve survived so far.

    • aunt peaches says

      I will always survive.
      But, it’s true…cloudless skies make for boring sunsets.

  8. says

    I, the English Major, have never read “Mrs. Dalloway,” but I read every word of this post. I don’t think it’s a question of having different personae online and IRL. The real difference, I think,, for people who aren’t naturally eager sharers of personal information, is that typing feels safer. It’s just easier to spill stuff like that when you don’t have to look at another person’s face while you’re doing it. At least for me. Because looking at people’s faces is scary when you are saying hard things. At least for me.

    • aunt peaches says

      Thanks Rebekah. I know you have been following for years and part of me has always felt guilty that I could have been more upfront with folks who have invested so much time in me. It means a lot when I know you “get” it even if I’m a real mess. BUT. You have got to read Mrs. D when you get a chance. Some weird and wonderful stuff in there…

      • says

        I’m sure I’ll get to “Mrs. Dalloway” eventually. One of my classmates wrote her senior seminar paper on it. Mine was on Katherine Anne Porter’s “Noon Wine.”

  9. says

    All the glitter. All the glitter and sparkles. All the glitter and sparkle nick-nacks on the planet.

  10. spycandy says

    AP, thank you for your bravery in writing this. So much of it struck chords in my own life. I’ve loved your blog and unique voice for years now, and find myself liking you even more after reading this

  11. Christy says

    “I can tell you with confidence, had I not lost everything, this never-ending hunger to be resourceful and create with my bare hands would not exist within me. This blog would not exist without that pain.” I cannot even tell you how much I identify with this. I, too, have lost everything. And through years of therapy and building friendships, I have learned how to create a new life for myself. A life of gratitude and joy-seeking. I wouldn’t seek joy in myself and others and my surroundings had I not lost everything. Had I not gone through such tough circumstances. I don’t know a whole lot of people with this same perspective and I am SO GRATEFUL to you for sharing your story. I cannot tell you how much it means to me. Such authenticity rings true. I have loved and admired your website and now it is even more special to me because I know more of the perspective of which you write with, What a gift you have given us, readers. THANK YOU FOR THIS. :)))

    • aunt peaches says

      Thanks Christy. I’m sorry to hear your story was/is a bumpy ride too. It’s not fun, but I hope we can find ways to be thankful for it. Strange gifts, right?

  12. meg says

    this. this is what separates blogs i skim from blogs i cherish every word of every post. you’re the latter.

  13. says

    Goodness, what a great post! I hate to admit that it got me a little teary-eyed at work (good thing my desk is in a dark corner!). This post is so full of emotion, personality, and struggle. I could have a lot to say, but I’ll just leave it at this: I think you’re great. Thanks for being one of my top 5 favorite bloggers and thanks for putting yourself out there!

    • aunt peaches says

      Oh Nikki! I am sorry to make you cry! You want me to send a cat video to perk things up? I have a ready supply 😉

  14. Whitney M says

    I enjoyed reading this (yes, all of it) and learning things about you! You got some stuff, but oh my don’t we all!

  15. Kate says

    I must of gotten your read but can’t write more than a few and if not for spell check it would not be that. I have the dyslexia. If you really want to read something our library have books on cd’s.
    Love the blog. Keep up the good write.

    • aunt peaches says

      Agreed. Audiobooks are such a gift. and I are good friends. 🙂

  16. Karen Warren says

    I have read your blog for awhile, but it’s nice to see the real person behind it. You continue to inspire us. You certainly have given us new ideas and new interests, meaning specifically Benedict Cumberbatch and crepe paper Easter grass.

    Not all crafters have children, me included, and lots of younger women seem to be crafting now. My college age neices love crafty stuff. They really like my Silhouette Cameo, and all the stuff you can do with it.

    I have to say, as I have aged I am so over caring what other people think about me. I once lost alot of weight, and it drove me nuts when people would ask “Don’t you feel better?”. Hell NO! I was always hungry,and always sore from exercising. Thanks for asking! Then I quit smoking and gained most of it back.

    Thanks for sharing some of your story.

    • aunt peaches says

      Isn’t is maddening? It’s nice of people to compliment “Wow, you look like you have lost weight! Good work!”but would they say it if they knew the more accurate wording — “Wow, you look like you have spent the last month physically miserable and emotionally beating yourself up with self-doubt! Good work!” It’s hard.

  17. Janet Wilson says

    I look at your blog 7 days a week! Sometimes I re-read old posts just because I like how you say things and your pictures are always so colorful. You have provided me with more craft projects, recipes and cocktails than any one person out there in the blogging world! Thank you for all of it!

  18. Abby Davis says

    I’ve often wondered what would happen if people spilled the truth about themselves. Glitter & paint can cover a lot of flaws, but it doesn’t hide the depth of truth about the creator. I’m glad you did this. I love your writing style. It’s interesting to know the story behind it.

  19. says

    My Peach,
    I’m sorry if I started you on this road, but happy that you had Dalloway moment. Thank you for sharing, those ghosts can be scary.
    Big hug from your biggest fan!

    • aunt peaches says

      Oh no! I’m sorry you saw this before I got a chance to email and thank you. It was on my list today. You are a spark seeker! Thanks for getting me started. I really do feel better after posting this 🙂

  20. Colleen Walsh says

    I read your blog every day. Thank you so much for this post. Bloggers that seem too perfect make me very, very uneasy; it’s like my body is sending out a warning “Watch out here, there’s something seriously wrong with this person.” My brain knows there may not be anything wrong with them but I’ve learned to pay attention to what my stomach & innards are saying.
    I’ve never felt that way about your blog though. You’ve always included a good balance of your real opinions and circumstances that has let me feel there’s a real person at your keyboard.
    btw, I’m a Technical Writer so whenever I’ve reading something my brain tends to notice typos and other errors but I’ve never noticed very many on your blog. So I’d say you’re doing a VERY GOOD job of proof reading.
    Thanks again.

    • aunt peaches says

      Ha! Thanks Colleen! Well, I will take that as a very great compliment indeed. My insecurities about my proofreading are huge, but I’m also working really hard to accept my flaws as totally acceptable and not that big of a deal. Hearing that folks like you don’t notice is a big comfort. Thanks!!

  21. says

    1. I haven’t read that book, but I will now.

    2. As far as number one on your list, it’s a big part of what causes me to relate to what you do, aside from the obvious aesthetic appeal, of course.

    3. About number five, I think that basically taking thoughts which you can’t express to people around you and speaking them into the void, well, that’s better than not speaking the thoughts. I think doing something like what you do here could prime the pump, if that’s what it needs.

    4. I love to read what you have to say.

  22. says

    this has always been one of the coolest places for me to hang out online and it’s 100% because of YOU – I have one kid and I don’t craft. Like, ever. I’ll probably never make a single project you post about – but I love to SEE what you do and I love to read what you want to talk about – the color and the voice and the vibe all make me very happy.

    I grew up in an very affluent household that was also terrifying at times- my parents had one of the worst marriages I know of – and my biggest fear is to be homeless for some reason (probably because I was aware that my home wasn’t particularly a safe place and/or that at any moment, someone in the family might or might not be alive.)

    anyway. life is weird and crazy and i just want to thank you for brightening up the world of online the way that you do!

  23. says

    Your vulnerability with us here really is a gift. Thank you, so very much. I love your posts, and this one will stick with me for a long time. Xx

  24. mary says

    i absolutely love your blog, and i really appreciate the openness of this post.

  25. Leslie says

    Oh, sweetie, you absolutely and honestly can say you have a child.
    One you raised for many years and lost.
    It is the truth. Giving birth isn’t the measure of motherhood;
    emotional attachment and hard work counts, too.
    There are foster parents, adoptive parents, grandparents, and other “temporary” parents– all that serve a vital role. And you can include yourself as one.
    Yes, you had a child and lost it.
    The details are not the business of any sponsor.

  26. Kaylin says

    Thank you for opening up like that. I concur with several other comments by saying you have always been the most genuine blogger I’ve come across and I know I’m not alone in saying, I appreciate it.
    Sure it’s fun looking at a perfectly put together house or carefully constructed photo session for handmade whatevers, but when I really look at it I think, “Good lord girl, how long did it take you to do all that? Get the lighting just right, find some aesthetically pleasing twigs and flowers for props…what else could you have been doing with that time??” And then they post several times a day?! Yeah no.
    On another note, I have always been the big girl in the group (hello, my dad is 6’6 and built like a bear!) so I totally know where you’re coming from. It used to bother the heck out of me when all my friends were (and still are) little waifs, looking cute in everything I did not, BUT The older I’ve got the more I realized that life is too short to waste on fretting over your pant size. Sure it sucks I can’t pull off certain things, but I have more important things to do and think about! Find something to cover your nakedness and move on! Oh, and the joy in listening to a already thin person talk about the next diet they are going to do whist you enjoy your cookie is the best. No can tell me otherwise.

  27. Anna says

    What an absolutely outstanding post. Everything, everything, everything was so wonderful to read and I commend you on your ability to be brutally honest and impossibly well-spoken.

  28. Vallen says

    Plus you’re funnier than all get out, keep a very neat and organized gorgeously-decorated living space, make really cool things for very little money, AND support yourself? Ahhh, that’s winner!

  29. says

    “When you understand what it takes to provide the conveniences of modern life, every day is an exercise in gratitude and wonder.”

    ^This…so much this.

    It’s funny, or maybe not, how it takes a life crisis to get to this truth. I meet so many people who have so much but lack gratitude. They whine about getting up in the morning. (Be grateful you can see sunshine.) They complain about going to bed. (Be grateful you’re sleeping in a secure place, in a bed, not in the tippy top of the underpass where I-355 meets Roosevelt Road.) I realized, after my own ‘aha’ moment, that being grateful changes everything. I’m calmer. I don’t get as easily flustered. I still have my quirks which can be not so nice, but I practice being grateful for something every day, even if it’s opening my eyes in the morning. (It helps to have cats who like to sleep next to you. There is nothing better than purring cats in the morning.)

    As for not having a skew toward children’s crafts, I feel, in my bones, that there is a niche for more “adult” crafts. The bird feeder in yesterday’s column could be done by or with kids. I think you should go with what you like to do, what you’re offered to do. “Would this look good on the bathroom wall?” If it’s not something you’d like to have in your domicile, as great and as exciting a post you’ll create, it won’t ring with authenticity. If you feel inclined to do a post on paper plate animals, we’ll read it, but if you don’t want to, fine. My child is 32 so I don’t need children’s crafts. I’m more interested in your opinion of “Minion yellow”. I’m thinking of using it on a couple walls in my kitchen.

    I’m overweight too. I went to Steak ‘n Shake last night and had a bacon burger, fries and a chocolate fudge brownie shake. It felt wonderful.

    I admire you so much. I wish I had the guts and connections to work from home, to make that leap knowing you don’t have a complete safety net under you. You’re so brave. (Oh man have I got a story about that sentence.)

    I will be here, checking in on you to see how you’re doing. Did you see the NPR story about how Chicago’s lighting is changing? I saw that as a metaphor for how I’ve changed since living here. “Newer, better ballast.” (I particularly like that idea of better ballast.)


    • aunt peaches says

      The lighting is changing? No, how so? Like the way the sun hits the city, or like it’s changing street lights to CFL?

      PS: Steak n’ Shake FTW!

  30. Susan says

    what a brave, marvelous and wonderful essay I just read. You are fabulous and I will love you forever for this post! Thank you!!!!

  31. Shannon says

    Hey AP I have always struggled with my weight and like you said when I was skinny it was not healthy emotionally. Once I lost a lot of weight because well I had to leave my husband because he stole all of my money after using all of his. I had to get a new job, sell our house and a lot of possessions and it was scary. I hated that a lot of people didn’t like me anymore if I gained weight. It is stupid. I am still me. My family members even made fun of me for being overweight. Ahem.

    I hate to admit I have corrected people that I know about misuse of wording like there their and they’re, etc and they get offended. It isn’t meant to be mean but most of them get offended and take it that way but I wasn’t trying to embarrass them or anything. I feel bad about it but I was really trying to help. Everyone is different and excels at different things. I was always the outcast and I guess I still am, that doesn’t have a lot of friends. But I am me and if someone doesn’t like me for being me then their loss, you know? I will always be hated by someone, like you said no matter what. Be true to yourself.

    For a long time I have had a lot of anger for those that have hurt me but I am trying to let go and not be angry in general. It is easier some days. I have let go of people that I care about that are unkind to me. I still care, I still wish them well and I still don’t want to talk to them.

    Most people don’t know me and I am different usually online. I have social anxiety and it is hard for me to try to make new friends. I hate it and it is something that I am working on. I am also bipolar which I think scares people when they hear that word and I usually don’t tell people. One of my aunts by marriage, once told my husband at a family event that people with depression “should just get over it” and I was so glad I wasn’t there to hear that. Wow. I wish it really was that simple!

    I think that I will read the book you recommended and I can’t believe that I haven’t read it already! I read this entire article and thank you for sharing yourself with us. It makes me see people I know differently and makes me think differently in general, which is a good thing (that just made me think of Martha!!!).

    Much love!

    • aunt peaches says

      Thanks, Shannon. “It makes me see people I know differently and makes me think differently in general” is about the best compliment you could give another human being. So I am going to take that and run. We all have a load to carry, and it will be heavier at times than others, but empathy for the imperfections in others goes a long way. I’m still working on this myself, but I’m already seeing payoff.

  32. Caroline says

    Thank you so much for sharing. As a woman in her 20s who is trying to figure her life out, it’s nice to have a view that DOESN’T fit the traditional married-with-kids view. Thank you for being so honest and sparkly!

  33. Wandalee says

    Your blog is one of two that I read , the other one is totally different, but is also a real person with a real life she shares a bit. I like that I don’t like everything about either of you. Your blog is entertaining. informative, inspirational . Would it be all of those things if your experiences were different? I am sorry you have had such huge loss in your life. I know how it is, twice I came home and everything we had was sitting in our front yard and I have lost my parents too.

    Keep on truckin’ honey.

    • aunt peaches says

      Oh Wanda Lee, I am sorry. You keep on truckin too!

  34. Jamie says

    Hats off for you for living on the edge and doing something that wasn’t entirely comfortable! I enjoyed the read. Advertisers that won’t work with you because you don’t have kids are lame. I still want to know who that photo card company was. Punks.

  35. says

    Welp. Have just picked myself up off the crying floor. Can’t add much to the supportive, gut wrenched, awestruck comments already posted. Just, please combine them all and multiply by 40 and that’s what I would like to say.

    Once upon a time, a very dear friend said to me (the always-heavy-and-struggling-with-t me), “I’m going to be refusing the tamoxifen treatment after my breast cancer surgery because people can gain, like, 15 pounds on it, and I’d rather have the cancer recur than be fat.”

    That very day I stopped stressing and struggling and beating myself up. I realized I’d rather be the opposite of whatever the hell that was.

    Love you, Peaches!

    • aunt peaches says

      Love you, Michelle.
      And, oh my gosh, Wtf was your friend thinking??? What did you say??? Okay, there is a time in my life when I might have thought like that, but would never admit it out loud. That says something about a bigger problem. Are we really at a point when people think being fat is worse than being critically ill? Omg. I don’t even know what to say to that. Stories like this make me appreciate my fat butt.

  36. Yasmin C says

    Great post today! I love reading about snippets of your life. And lady, you really need to write a book! Not just because of your stories but also the way you have with words–it’s like the style you craft or decorate with is also the way you talk and write. It’s incredible!

    Also, I haven’t thought of Mrs. Dalloway in years-I was obsessed with Mrs. Dalloway ever since The Hours came out–the movie introduced to me the book and to Virginia Woolf, who I felt was my soul sister in those angsty high school and young adult years.

    Thanks for sharing with us!


  37. Beeherenow says

    THANK YOU for sharing this with your readers and the world! This is why I love your blog, pretty glittery things with a dose of real life.

    You can tell you do this with passion from the heart. That’s why this blog feels special to me and it is why your blog is one of the few I actually follow…you are unapologetically you. Don’t ever change that!

  38. Wanda says

    The only blog I read, word for word. And this is why. (Isn’t honesty exhilarating? And it can freak other people out…WIN WIN!!)

  39. Karen says

    Aunt Peaches–I love you!!
    Yours is the ONLY blog I follow.
    Your typos will never be seen in the same light, knowing how hard you work at this. I am one of those people who spots typos without trying–my challenge has been to not judge people because of them. I’m still workin’ on that one.

    This is the first time I have ever responded to a blog posting!!
    BLESSINGS, Girlfriend!

    • aunt peaches says

      Wowz! Well, a first-time comment is a huge compliment to me in any case. The typo thing is tricky. I appreciate it when people tell me when I have typos, but I also appreciate it when they bury the pill. You know? This is totally my ego talking, but I’m on an honesty thread so I’ll lay it out –When I get a comment or an email that just says, “Paragraph 3 should be ITS and not IT’S.” it is absolutely gutting because I worked hours or even days on that post and all they saw was the flaw. That’s hard. If they can bury it in “Hey that thing in the post was interesting blah blah blah PS: Paragraph 3 should be its and not it’s”…that is much easier to swallow. Is anyone expected to baby me like that? No. But I’m being honest. It does sting. And I suspect it always will.

      • Dio says

        I was gonna leave a comment at the end but your reply here was something I totally relate to. I graduated a couple years ago from a state university with a bachelor’s in English with an emphasis in creative writing (I want to write children’s books). i actually was in school for 10 years; I wanted to join the animation degree there but after 8 years even I could read the grafffiti on the wall. I wasn’t even in the running to even make it under the requirements (a clue i should have noted earlier: of 200 students only 80 would make it i to the program and you had to ace the portfolio review within two chances or be told to change your major). I was miserable doing something I used to love and hated it. Screw that, I said. Do something you can do, I told myself, and save what you love if you have to for your hobbies. Anyhow i write fiction once a week for a long series and was doing well enough until that anonymous comment came thru (jagoff couldn’t even bother to turn off anon) asking if I “could learn to write better” and “not use present tense” in the fiction (i use two tenses because the series takes place at two different times). The hell?? You don’t go and tell someone to learn to write better, and certainly not THAT way. I spent a week on hiatus and in fact spent a coulple days trying to formulate an answer that would satisfy being civil and telling them to fuck off for not even being decent to 1) leave the comment under their name, and 2) getting on me for style under pretense of grammar when they couldn’t be troubled. So long comment short (TOO LATE), Peaches, i get that feeling. Your typos never bothered me mostly because my own habit is to correct even days after posting and editing as I go; but you write much more fequently than I and you write from the heart. Thats worth everything to me since you are seriously the only blog I’m following now (I…am so busy these days @.@). Love you lots, hon. You keep doing what you do and feels right no matter how the process goes.

  40. Stephanie says

    Thanks for sharing a part of who you are. What you have revealed makes me love your attitude toward life even more. Your blog is always a wonderful escape for me. I love your joy in everyday life and in simple pleasures. It is wonderful to see where that appreciation comes from and to see how it shows what an amazing survivor you are.

  41. Lisa says

    You are remarkable. Thank you for this post, this blog and for sharing yourself with total strangers like me. I saw myself in some of your words…”some serious emotional breakdancing busting beneath the surface and sometimes homegirl can barely keep it together…” but me and God are working on it!
    Stay sparkly!

  42. Honora says

    Sometimes, we fear saying things out loud to ourselves. No one is more cruel a critic than we are to ourselves. There are so many things I’m fearful of acknowledging. Not to the rest of the world, but to myself. Thank you very very much for this post. It really touched my inner self critic. That bitch needs to cut me some slack!

    • aunt peaches says

      “No one is more cruel a critic than we are to ourselves.” – No truer words have ever been spoken. We all need to cut ourselves some slack!

  43. Robin Gray says

    I’ve been reading your blog for about a year and have been inspired by many of the crafts posted here. I’m 48 and child-free by choice, and no regrets. But I still love kids. Finding things that I can share with children and grandchildren of my friends has been fun, so thank you for all the glitter, paper flowers, and crayons!

    Also, thank you for your bravery with this post:
    I’ve been homeless and understand struggle as well as the pride of creating something out of nothing, earning everything, and loving it. I’m sorry for the loss of your father, but I’m sure he would be proud of you.

    I, too, have a reading disability, and it takes forever to read a book but I still do it and enjoy it.

    I’m also tall but used to be skinny (sometimes, waaaaay too skinny via various self-abuses). However, peri-menopausal weight gain has challenged me to confront my vanity which I had been confusing for self-acceptance (I’m not perfect, but I’m better than I was a year ago). I’m happy you have chosen to remain healthy and love yourself rather than continue to do unhealthy things to yourself.

    I’m not a blogger, but I grok the super groovy cool bubble-relation-chart diagram. Your joy for writing and sharing crafty ideas makes the world a messier place, but in a colorful and fun way. Please keep up the good work.

  44. Tamra says

    I read every word of your post. I loved it all, related to much of it, and left with a great desire to say a couple of things. First, if every person had the courage to do this sort of thing, we would all be so much better off because we would then understand how alike we all are – deep down, where it matters. Which leads to my second comment. I think you are a beautifully faceted gem of a human being, like a diamond, but flawed. To me a flawed gem is the most beautiful of its kind, because the flaws somehow make it more REAL. Without the flaws, I don’t think the beauty would shine so brightly. So thank you for sharing your realness with us. Kinda gives me the courage to do the same.

  45. Nancy K. says

    Aunt Peaches, I read every word, and every word in the blogs that were linked, about your father, and about “losing” that sponsored post (that company was the loser, not you). Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I will be thinking about your words for a long, long, time. I am one of those irritating people who can spot a typo from a mile away, and it is enormously helpful to be reminded that everyone’s brain works differently. I wish I had known about your learning style before.

    Two things about your mommy status: 1. You are the best mom in the world to Lola and to all of the other furry beings who have been and who will come into your life. 2. When that little girl that you mothered turns eighteen, she can do whatever she wants. I’ll bet that what she’ll want to do is hang out with YOU.

    You have so many gifts. Writing is not the least of them, by any means. In fact, it may be your strongest gift, and that’s saying something. If you wrote a book, I would buy it in a heartbeat.

    Big hug.

  46. Geri Johnson says

    About 3 – 4 years ago when I got laid off from my job and decided to become “retired” I had a lot of spare time on my hands. So I rediscovered Facebook & figured out how to use it & talk to it as though somebody out there might be listening the same way I would talk to the gals I used to work with. I discovered Pintrest and became a pinning drooling fool! And that led to blogs which up until then I didn’t even know existed believe it or not! And then that some how led to you!

    At that time I signed up to get every bloggers email to come directly into my junk email box to the point that my junk email box resembled a very soggy diaper because I just could not keep up with them all even though I tried to.

    Eventually on days when that soggy diaper was really bugging me I started weeding out the “I donut cares” (yes I know I spelled that wrong but I think it’s funny). I started unsubscribing from the ones based on the particular email contents on that particular day. If I didn’t like it they were gone. If I did they could hang around until next time.

    But you, I feel a connection to for many reasons. You were my first recycled water bottle love. 😀 We share the same opinions about a lot of things in the world even though I am almost twice your age. And your are a crafty kind of girl. And you are funny. And you have a way of expressing yourself with the written word that feels familiar to me because you probably write like you talk. So it feels like you and I are having a conversation.

    Anyway I almost always read your blog. And my favorites are the ones like this one where you are talking about you and what you think and what you feel. They always make me feel even more of a connection with you the person behind the blog. And that reminds me of the Wizard of Oz when he says “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!”

    Too late! I’m already paying attention & I like what I see 😀

    • aunt peaches says

      It’s wonderful to hear your story, Geri. For so many of us, acts of creativity are a vital part of who we are, especially during the rough times, or times of transition. People look at stuff we make and and say ‘that’s pretty’ and that feels great, but ‘pretty’ doesn;t begin to describe the benefit to us on the inside. You have such talent. I’m so glad pinterest led you down a rabbit hole to me. 🙂

  47. says

    This is my first time to read your blog, and I read this post all the way through. Because you were real, and real is more interesting than fake. In 2011, I wrote a private post about the unraveling of my marriage that hadn’t all the way unraveled yet, and put it in Drafts where I wanted it to remain forever. Well, you know what happened, don’t you? I thought, on this particular Sunday afternoon, that I published a post called Mellow Yellow, when in fact I had published the private one. I thought I was going to die of shame, when hours later, someone emailed me to tell me. But you know what, my readers were the ones who kept building my confidence until I truly did leave the sorry s.o.b. I’m no longer a doctor’s wife (we did not live down the street from an ex-president), and I live in a one-bedroom apartment, but I have peace. And I can look in the mirror and get a glimpse of my soul, and it isn’t nearly as troubled. So write for real, for you. For us. For the sake of being real. Fake doesn’t mean anything.

    • aunt peaches says

      Oh my gosh! I can’t even imagine if I had accidentally published a post like this???!!! I’m so glad you have a supportive community to receive that kind of information. I actually didn;t really intend on publishing this post when I was writing it, but something got in me Thursday morning and said TIME TO GO. I think sometimes our words have minds of their own. They demand to be free. Hopefully both of us can benefit 🙂

  48. Jb says

    Read all of it. Thank you. Love the word authenticity. And gratitude. Love your blog and I imagune having a cup of tea with you. One teeny tiny thing though — can’t you round up a few kiddos and call them nieces and nephews or cousins and tell those marketing people you’ve got ’em? Don’t have to claim ownership per say…just a thought

    • aunt peaches says

      Valid point. And I do. I have some amazing friends with kids who are always getting bugged for photo shoots. The problem is these marketing decisions are made by committees before I’m ever on their radar. The fact is that moms trust other moms, so if their target demographic is moms…yeah. I’m out. Luckily not everyone feels that way. But yeah, it is frustrating. An hour ago I got an email pitch from Baby Haven asking me to promoted something on my baby. Clearly, they are not active readers. Ha!

  49. Lauri says

    Thank you for sharing this with us, it was incredibly brave of you! Powerful stuff. I hope I can show this kind of honesty some day {{HUGS}}

  50. says

    Beautiful. Loved every word. Thanks for sharing you.

  51. Rose says

    Peaches, I’ve been reading you a long time. What you just wrote explains you better but it doesn’t change my view of you. Keep up the good work!

  52. Tricia C says

    Thank you so much for publishing this post. As an adoptive mom and a mom to multiple children who were with me for too short a time, your comments about saying goodbye nearly killing you totally resonated with me. Been there. Hope this doesn’t sound too virtuous, but they need us to get that emotionally involved. You made an impact in her life, even if you never see her again, even if she doesn’t remember you. Phooey on those who consider you childless. I’m so sick of limited definitions of motherhood.

    Your words are powerful and brave. Thank you again – for all of your words. It’s an honor to read them.

  53. Tania says

    You totally rock. Love your blog and your honesty and bravery.

  54. says

    I must say, you have outdone yourself this time, brava! Ever since I stumbled upon this blog I have been wildly jealous of your style. The personal tone, the rants and raves and honest opinions, the lack of fucks given. I find myself trapped forever trying to be distant, and only pretty, and everything positive… and all the niceness of a cutesy craft blog. Your work here is better for being sassy and personal and intense. Do it!

  55. says

    i love this peaches. you should feel so proud of yourself for getting all of these feelings out… and hitting publish. the world needs more of this type of honesty. sending much love and good energy your way.

  56. Shirley Meier says

    Not to give you too much to read, darlin’, but I had to respond. Raw, personal and real. Thank you.

    “You can recognize the adult human heart,
    by the scars,
    the burn marks,
    and the glitter.” (me)

    I’m so glad you’re only 35 and realizing these things. Hugs and kisses. I read your blog daily!

  57. says

    I’m sending you a massive high five. You had me at the glitter and the furry beings, but seriously dude – this is beautiful vulnerable awesome writing. I’m grateful you are in the world xx

  58. jodi says

    Dear Aunt Peaches, You are beyond amazing! Thanks for this post, and all you bring to the world.
    I wanted to share a suggestion. While I love amazon, and free shipping has changed my life, would you consider linking your book recos to a public library near you? Just a thought…

    • aunt peaches says

      Thanks, Jodi! You are actually not the first person to recommend this. I’ll be honest with you — I can’t figure out how to navigate that site. I can find the books, and I can find the library, but I can’t figure out how to get both items to talk to each other. It’s not an intuitive site. That might just be me, but if I can’t figure that out, I can’t expect my readers to either.

      Libraries are awesome, though. 🙂

  59. Shayne says

    I’ve read Mrs Dalloway and I’ve read your blog – I much prefer you to Mrs D (or indeed Ms Woolf). This is a profoundly raw piece of writing and I admire you for it, but do not ever, ever, ever think that you owe the people reading your blog anything – not honesty, not authenticity, not consistency. You put your talent and creativity out here for us, for free and that is enough. If it makes you happier to share details of your private world, then have at it but don’t ever feel that anyone has the right to expect it of you. (that old ‘friend’ incidentally, deserves locking in a small cage and poking with sticks for her utter rudeness and insensitivity).

  60. BG says

    Aunt Peaches,
    LOVED this post! Your writing is so powerful!

    Regarding your concerns about always presenting your real self to everyone at all times: I think we’re all like our closets. We have clothes that we wear for different occasions-work, play, beach, funeral, wedding, sleep, partying, etc,etc. While the categories are the same, what each person’s wardrobe contains is different (both from other people and even from themselves over time). So your beach wardrobe elements could consist of a simple one-piece bathing suit, shorts and a t-shirt, and a sparkly party dress and tiara (complete with half-drunk champagne bottle as an accessory!). So other people who wear bathing suits will be drawn to you when you’re wearing that, but not when you’re wearing a sparkly party dress. But if you insist on them knowing that you have a closet full of party dresses, you may lose the joy of all the bathing suit experiences you have with them. As long as all of your wardrobe items have a place in YOUR life, that’s all that matters! I also think from reading your blog for a couple of years, that you are the type to look around and say “ooh look at that woman wearing a sparkly party dress to the office-I want to get to know her”.

    I’ll pass along something a friend of mine told me in my late 20s: “you need to go to therapy. Not because therapy would be good for YOU, but because it would be good for the therapist…..therapists need to see more people like you who are very comfortable with all of their flaws”.

    Thank you so much for your fantastic blog ( and Closet! )

    • Dio says

      That is the most wonderful metaphor ever. We are our own closets.

  61. Rose says

    Thank you and mega thank you is all I can say. Your post today was a much-needed reminder to me to be myself and not look for all the warm-fuzzy hugs we would LOVE to get from people in our lives….maybe its time to allow different people in out lives!
    I purposely didn’t read all the other comments so I didn’t monkey them (which is something I have done in the past…).
    You need to know you rock, your blog rocks and I have been reading it for a LONG time. I envy your home and want to add the colour that is yours.
    If I lived in your city I’d leave you a new jar of glitter on your doorstep today!
    Keep it up Baby!
    You bring colour on SO MANY levels to this often sad and confused world!!!
    PS I had to re-read this three times before I hit send 🙂

  62. KP Berg says

    Wow! You go girl! I am in awe. I wish I had half your guts and style. Please keep doing what you’re doing, I love it. Thank you for sharing.

  63. says

    BEST BLOG POST EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m not a crafty person. Nonetheless, I have been drawn to your blog and, while there are days when the subject matter doesn’t really connect with me, I’m glad that I didn’t unsubscribed. Because this, THIS, happens. Out of the stinkin’ blue comes a blog post. THE blog post that makes hangin’ around so, SO worth it. Yup, BEST BLOG POST EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  64. says

    Great Post!!! Thanks for being brave and posting this!

  65. says

    Girl, we all come here because you do you and this is the you-est post of them all.
    Keep up the amazing work.

  66. says

    You know what’s great about you? Honesty. In addition to loving that your crafts, ideas, and opinions are unabashed (so over chevron and burlap and people referring to glitter as craft herpies(SO WRONG!)) I love that you’re honest. I, for one, am often hesitant to put my opinions out there, because I used to share my opionions, and it got me a lot of grief. You (and maybe a few more years under my belt and a better understanding of tact) have helped me get over being afraid of being honest.

    So… Thanks.

  67. Sherrie L says

    The way you write, I would never have guessed you are a slow reader. You have a unique “voice”, which is both easy and fun to read. I admit to being a blistering fast reader, over 500 words a minute, albeit much slower for technical stuff, like income tax instructions (during which, I FREEZE, and doubt my ability to read and comprehend at all). Unlike you, I am a very messy housekeeper, and not at all in the same league of creativity (although I dabble). I was UNDER weight as a child, a continual worry to my mom, who kept asking the doctor what was “wrong” with me, and battling with me at every meal. I grew into a slender teen, who modeled for a short while and found the job soul-destroying, so I quit. Now, post menopause, I am “overweight” by the BMI standards, but my GP says don’t sweat it, I’m fine. I am childless, and I have not regretted it a moment. Love other people’s kids, taught kids, but never needed to HAVE kids. My husband and I lived in Chicago for a quarter of a century, still miss the city, so I envy you being right there. I wish I could go back to my 35year old self and say these things:
    1. RELAX, you’re fine. Everyone is putting up a better front than they themselves believe they are.
    2. Experiences over things. Memories last, unlike things, can’t be taken away from you like things, and will be there for you when everyone and everything else is gone.
    3. Money in the bank is the best cure for insomnia. Figure out six or so months of bare-bones existence, and put that in a bank. Don’t invest it, just save it. Then you can go out and be much more fearless with everything you do, because you have your back. While you are at it, throw a small amount, even twenty bucks a week, into a ROTH ira in a S&P500 index fund. (Vanguard is cheap). At your age, the amount you end up with will be substantial, and when you need it, NO TAXES.
    I wish you peace and joy.

    • aunt peaches says

      Thanks! All three are done or are in motion. #2 is hard some days, but I’m working on it 🙂

    • aunt peaches says

      Well gosh. I don;t know about the incandescence, but this article really resonated for what I WANT to be. The idea of “resume accomplishments vs. funeral accomplishments”….LOVE that. Thank you for sharing this with me — I am totally going to include this in my Happy Monday post today. Thanks again!

  68. jess says

    I love reading your blog, I check it daily. You often inspire me to be true to myself… starts with allowing myself to enjoy polka dots on everything and eventually morphs into whole self acceptance. I just wanted to let you know that you have had a positive influence on my life, and to thank you for sharing!

  69. says

    This mere act of commenting will cause me to flush with mortification. I must simply say that you have more “juice” (brains, talent, sparkle, drive, etc) than, well, almost everybody, and yet a stunning lack of hubris. Give yourself a big kiss and hug. To your continued success!!

  70. Romney says

    I thoroughly enjoyed reading your post! I am a relatively new follower (You hooked me with your Mardi Gras bead tray. I’m originally from New Orleans and sensed some kind of connection with you and that tray!) Have a great day!

  71. Bernadette says

    Peaches, thank you for opening a window into the “place where you live.” Yes, I read and then reread every word. I am touched by your courage and sensitivity. We all have struggles of one sort or another but you have been able to rise above it all and come out shining like the stars. Thank you for trusting we would love you no matter what, and so we do. I do. I am sure you touched the heart of one sweet little girl who will ever remember you for the joy you shared.
    Thank you for you,

  72. Leslie says

    You are the princess, and don’t ever forget it.

    I, too, have no children (at 61). I’ve never had the desire or inclination, so perhaps that makes it easier.

    A few days ago at Target, there was a screaming, wailing two-year-old within earshot (was he ever), and when I checked out, I told the clerk, “I forgot to have children.” The woman in front of me turned to me and said, “Me, too.”

    I think that will become more the social norm as we go forward.

    • says

      At nearly 40….me too. I don’t regret it, but nor do I dislike children, as people assume I must because I’ve chosen to not have them. I cannot fathom why a company marketing craft items would assume people using them MUST have children, it is just insane troll logic to me!

  73. Mary Lou says

    so proud of you!
    Will you be my daughter? 😀

    • aunt peaches says

      🙂 Thanks, Mary Lou.

  74. S Pierson says

    What an amazing post. I am so blown away by your strength, honesty and authenticity. I have always loved your blog (and use of glittery things) but I rarely comment as I don’t feel I should shove my opinions on to web. However, after your lovely post I did want to write and say how much it meant and how much it resonated with me. Thank you. Also, I should tell you that your blog is the only one I follow on a regular basis as it makes me want to go out and make crafts with my family, and have coloring parties rather than go shopping for things for my home 🙂 That is a wonderful thing!

    • aunt peaches says

      Thank you for saying that. I’m flattered my post would encourage you to share — you are certainly welcome to “shove” your opinions here anytime.

  75. Pamela Keown says

    Peaches, you are my favorite Aunt.

    I will read Mrs. D.
    I will try to come to terms with the 5 things about myself I am afraid to tell anyone.
    You are amazing. You are honest. You are incandescent. You are my favorite.

    Thank you.

    • aunt peaches says

      Thanks Pamela, I hope you do take the time to write down 5 things you are afraid to tell anyone. Maybe you make them public, or maybe you just write them in an email you never send. Totally your call, but it is really helpful to think about stuff in terms of our own fears. Hopefully just writing it down will lead you to realizing that maybe there is nothing to be afraid of.


  76. EG1972 says

    Wow. Just wanted to chime in with my support. Your site is unlike anything else I’ve found on the web and I love it. Keep “doing you”, please!

    PS. I’m generally pretty nit-picky about grammar/spelling – I don’t recall ever noticing errors in your writing. You’re doing a great job lady!

  77. Juli says

    I like you even better for all this. Just be Peaches.

  78. says

    Peaches, I can’t imagine what it must have taken to not only write what you did but then to also hit the “publish” button. It’s interesting to read some of the other comments because they seem to be a healthy balance of people agreeing with you or seeing themselves in your post and people who don’t necessarily agree. That’s the joy of the internet – the freedom to say what you feel. It’s not always glitter and sparkles in real life so to read more about the lady who runs one of my favourite blogs has made me love it even more!

  79. says

    Wow. Thank you for sharing yourself so completely. I do feel I know you better than ever before, a bit more of your “backstory” , which is weird because you are not some character I watch but a real person, who weirdly, knows very little about me. That somehow gives me an unfair advantage? You have been instrumental in parts of my life, I wish you knew how important you and your blog are to me.
    I feel so very very sad that there are readers out there who dislike you. And what the hell are they doing filling out your survey anyway? Seriously!!!!
    Now I am rambling. Please just know I think you’re way cool. I wish I could have known you forever, and that feels strange to write because from your perspective I don’t know you now. I guess I’m part of that big orange circle, huh?
    Thank you. Just thank you. For being you and sharing yourself, your ideas, your passions. Thank you.

  80. says

    just wanna say…in the words of the flying spaghetti monster “ra-men!” I could go on and on about how much this resonated with me but I won’t (even though it did). From a forty-something fat girl with no kids who gets offers from companies that thinks she is a “Mommy Blogger” to you, mucho love.

  81. Mitra Pratt says

    Rock on Sister! This is my favorite post of yours. You are being real. And by real I also mean loved by a shit ton of people, including myself who love your posts. My second favorite post was about Hobby Lobby…but then there are are those things of yours that I’ve pinned…oh and I agree with that blogger 300 comments above mine where she said you and her could sort your glitter over a beer! Totally agree!

    “Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

    ― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

    and by the way, I can read really fast, super fast, crazy fast, but I totally could not recall the details of a book I read last week, just the overall impression of it…I’d love to absorb something for once….

    • aunt peaches says

      omg…surest way to make me tear up is break out the Velveteen Rabbit. I think of it in context to circumstances very separate from myself so it’s hard to hear it turned around. I hope we all get our Velveteen Rabbit moments. Thank you for giving me mine 🙂

  82. Cait Hirsch says

    Wow, I don’t even know what to say I am blown over. I never had any idea or thought this was going on for you. I’m sorry I’m so nosy but I see no one has asked and I think some of use would wonder some stuff but dont want to ask. You dont have to answer but I want to ask. Where were the rest of your family and friends when you were doing so badly? You write about these great memories and stuff and I don’t know what they weren’t there at this time? And why can’t you see this little girl apart from her dad? Do they they live in another place? You may want to talk to a doctor about your weight. My mom dieted for years and it never went anywhere but once she got help from her doctor they found out some stuff and it was really helpful. I’m sorry if this is really nosy I just love you peaches and it makes me sad to think you have to do this alone. I know we all want to help. Just tell us how to help! xoxoxoCait

    • aunt peaches says

      Hey Cait. You are not nosy — you’re being honest and since this post is about being honest with myself I appreciate you being honest with me. Let me go down the line…
      *When hard times where the hardest my family were doing what they could. Most of them live scattered across the country, which made it difficult. Everyone knew that my dad started spiraling downward after my mom’s death, that his business failed, that we lost the house and had to move in a bad way, and that he was diagnosed with cancer…but I wasn’t upfront with all the gory details. I’m sure you have gone through tough stuff and not wanted to talk about the ugliest parts out loud. Even my best friends didn’t know the hard stuff for a long, long time. It was humiliating. I couldn’t hide all of it, but I could hide the details and that what I needed to do back then to get through it back then and it’s just sat in my heart ever since. Someone very smart told me ‘you have to clean out the wound before it will heal’….this post is my trying to do some of the cleaning.
      *My ex and I separated in a way that wasn’t pretty. I stayed for way too long hoping I could salvage some relationships — not only with his daughter but with mutual friends, our home, etc. None of it worked. I’m still not far away from that chapter enough to have the perspective it’s going to take to make peace or even talk about it, but I’m hoping one day I’ll get there.
      *Yes, I have seen a doctor. Several. Some who even prescribed meds along with diet/nutrition/exercise. I’m glad your Mom found someone who could help, I have not found that yet. Everyone is different, though. I think it’s hard because physicians know that excess weight can cause all kinds of health problems and it’s their job to make sure their patients know the risks…but it’s also really hard for folks who struggle with their weight to a doctor for laryngitis and know that they are going to get a lecture on not eating enough salad (true story). It’s a vicious cycle. But I’m glad your Mom found someone. That’s encouraging. 🙂

  83. Deb in Oklahoma says

    Peaches, your blog is the one that I check daily because I enjoy it so much, whether it’s what you write or photos you post. I think you have shown a great amount of tenacity and courage to get where you are now, and where you are NOW is a good place. You have made your own life, on your own terms, and have thrived. While we may never meet in person (although that would be super neat), in the meantime, you just continue on your own path and keep posting about in whatever manner you wish. There are a lot of us along for the ride because we believe in you, but we also understand that not every day can be about spangled-flamingo hats for Lola. For what it’s worth, I’m here to listen (well, read) for as long as you want to talk.

  84. Carol says

    It is great to know you have so many long time readers and new ones like me who identify so well with you. Not sure which blogger’s link I chose to ‘happen’ upon yours, but I thank her and you. We are all works in progress, and it is a good thing to continuously be reminded of that. Your bravery and honesty are extremely admirable.

  85. says

    You are so wonderfully awesome. You are so good at this blogging thing. I wish there were more bloggers like you. But there’s not. There’s only you. Don’t ever stop doing what you love.

  86. says

    It is what it is!! Life sucks, as one of my 13 grandkids would say. It is a never ending story with unexpected results. Just when you think things are going well…..BAM, you get bowled over with some sad thing. Our lives have been filled with ‘take aways’. Some folks are strong, some are weak, some drift, some seek. None of it makes sense. This is MY life, and yours….it’s a different story shared by you. Thank you. You are strong and brave. Just read what so many people have written above. All the folks that care and depend upon you for comedy, hope, and lessons. Keep up the walk, you are doing good in your life. We all take the bull by the horns in different ways. Someone once said, ‘I am learning to sail my ship.’ It appears to me you are sailing on smooth waters. Thank YOU!!!

  87. Peach says

    Oh Aunt Peaches, I wish I had more time to read the comments. I do have to say, I totally agree with the gal who said you have every right to say you have a child. I find it funny how one gal comes off as ‘holier than thou’, and then ‘signs off’ as if anyone else’s comment is unimportant to her. You can bet your bottom dollar she was on here every few minutes checking the comments. As far as Facebook, I fought it for years, but finally got on for two reasons. #1: I have a business and it’s great for that. #2; I have reconnected with kids from elementary school, middle school, and high school. (We moved around a lot.) FB keeps families connected, lonely folks, etc…. It’s not for everyone, but I love it! Loved your blog. It had to be hard to spill your guts like that. You are an amazing lady.

  88. Lisa says

    Always feel free to say whatever you like. The vast majority of us that read your blog do so because we can relate to you on a personal level, not just a glitter level. As a fellow childless woman (by choice), it really ticks me off that sponsor’s would dismiss you because you don’t have a child. What BS. Creativity is certainly not related to procreation. Your only responsibility is to be happy with yourself and to hell with whatever anyone else thinks. There is no doubt life can be a real bitch, but we’re all doing the best we can, and that’s enough. Your doing a damn fine job.

  89. Lisa says

    Oh, I forgot to say you have the best hair ever!

  90. Robinn G says

    I really love your blog and I so admire you for sharing your 5 things! That had to have been very, very hard!! I’m so sorry that you can’t have contact with that child. I’m sure she misses you too. Thanks for a great blog! Big hug!

  91. Glimmer says

    I visit your blog every once in awhile. Very glad I stopped by today. I think you are an amazing soul, with a incredible amount of bravery. I see you as ever-growing, emotionally & spiritually. Its hard to do that without some level of honesty. I’m 53 and find I don’t want to spend all the time & effort necessary to stay thinner than I am. I am much more comfortable in my skin these days. Best wishes in your grateful, beautiful world. Be who you are.

    • aunt peaches says

      Glimmer, that is very kind of you to say. Thanks.

  92. Sheresa says

    Wow the responses to this seem lengthy and scary and some cases.

    I have to say I’m jealous and impressed by your open honesty. Some of the things you said struck a personal chord in me while others lit up or pained my empathetic side. I think most people’s (mine included)mistake is reading this as if it was written for us at all. While I applaud your ability to share this piece of yourself I realize that the real purpose or goal of something like this usually is in the “hitting the publish button” and baring yourself. I do this usually in a journal or on piece of paper that I promptly throw away. I wish I could be more open with others about that side of myself like you were here because it’s like a confession to yourself about the things you try to ignore.

    I guess I’ve now become one of those long comments but I just wanted to say that whether it was your intent or not to draw things out in others, to envoke thought or feeling…it happened. It’s funny too because I just read your blog about art vs. pretty. It’s strange how the only way I can describe this blog makes it sound like a very meaningful piece of art. Strange, right?

    • aunt peaches says

      Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Sheresa. I think you “get” it. Yes, I was hoping that folks might read this and it might prompt personal introspection, but selfishly, hitting the publish button was the real challenge for me. Knowing I accomplished that challenge is a reward and a relief all on its own. That said, I made the mistake of letting people think what I wrote here came from my deepest and darkest and I was trying to get people to confess their most precious secrets…that isn’t true and it wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to write about 5 things that color the way I approach my blog content that readers never get to see in person. Nothing but good has come from my occasional moments of rawness. I would encourage others to do the same when the time is right. 🙂

  93. says

    I love your blog and your honesty, which I know can be really difficult. I blog a mental illness blog (I have severe OCD)and I had the same issue on which part of myself was I showing to the people I actually know and those that are my readers. I wrestled with the same fear, because being open can be and usually is scary. I finally just ended up putting my blog on my personal fb, while having a panic attack with hives lol and let the chips fall where they may. And to my surprise no one deleted me or was offended. Most people probably didn’t even read it, but I felt good that I could merge my two “selves” as it were. And I still post some of my blogs in there occasionally. What I ended up doing was just realizing if they were my true friends, than they had to accept the real me. And what I write is the real me too. I guess like most bloggers, I am two halves of a whole but now I feel less split and more at one with myself.

    As for the other things you were talking about, I also can relate to many of them. I think maybe many of us can but are also afraid to talk about it. And no one should be judging you. There will be people that won’t understand your journey. They don’t have to, it isn’t for them.

    I think you are brave. I think you are talented and intelligent. I think you are exactly who you need to be. And I am fairly certain that is why so many of us love your blog. It is not just your crafts, awesome as they are, but it is you that brings us back. You make us laugh, you inspire us with your ideas and life lessons, and, honestly, your writing is superb. I have never noticed any grammatical errors and even if I did, I am too busy reading what you have said and less interested in what words you may have used incorrectly. In closing, I just think you should know that you rock! And we readers can’t wait to see what else you have in store to show us. So keep being you and rock on!

  94. D. G. says

    What a completely fascinating blog. You are a very smart, insightful and courageous young woman!! What if you were like me…and suddenly found yourself in your ’60’s, in a 39-year long ambivalent marriage and had been so thoroughly crippled by “perfectionism” that you realized you’d wasted your WHOLE life getting ready to live your life….oops. It’s nearly over. Don’t let that happen and it doesn’t sound like you will.

    • aunt peaches says

      Never too late. That’s easy to say, but honestly, the longer the wait the more staggering the change will seem. The only thing to build perspective is time. You do YOU. 🙂

  95. Susan says

    Please don’t ever stop writing or stop your website. I am 62….Foster Mom…Just know that their are a zillion of us wishing you the best and thanking you for sharing yourself with us!!!

  96. Caitlin says

    Dearest peachy,
    Good lord I had to scroll a kilometer to get down here so I could give you a high five. You ain’t dark baby, you a real woman. You keep cultivating courage in the face of fear, gives us something to relate to out here in no mans land of authenticity, so more beauties can find upliftment in the slip stream xxx

  97. Yvettte says

    Wow!. I just want to say — thank you for this post! Very raw, real and enlightening.

  98. robina says

    Great post. I get everything you are saying and you are brave to do so. Keep up the honesty and the glitter!

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  100. Laura Whitworth says

    I am a 57yo retired psychologist. This is the second post of yours that I have read. Both were compelling reading. Both made me feel like I was in a session without having to play my usual role. Both touched me. I think that you are on solid ground and just need to continue living as yourself. Don’t worry, don’t be afraid. You are fine just as you are. So much more will be revealed as you get older, and you will come to a place of even greater peace. Highest praise for being open with others and sharing yourself.

  101. Laura Whitworth says

    Also, your writing reminds me of Wendell Berry. I think because of your conversational style and really nice flow. Check him out. He’s quite prolific. A good start might be his “Hannah Coulter” book.

  102. says

    Its like youu read my mind! You appear to know a lot about this, like you wrote the bbook
    in it or something. I think that you could do with some pics to drive the message hokme a bit, but
    instead of that, thbis is excellent blog. A fantastic read.
    I will definitely be back.

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