Mary

what is real

One of my favorite memories with Chris Graham is of a date we had. I think it was 2016.

We went out to dinner, a wings place near our house in the city, and had the best time. We had been missing each other, busy with life and kids and catching up felt exciting. We didn’t run out of things to say and, for once, it wasn’t me doing all the talking. Chris was just as engaged and vocal. He was paying attention. It felt magical.

He made me laugh that night. He hadn’t made me laugh in a while. I think my husband is funny, but not witty-funny. He’s awkward-funny. He’s dorky-funny. He’s I-didn’t-mean-for-that-to-be-funny funny. I find him entertaining, but probably not the way he’d like.

That night felt electric. We were happy. We were fed. We were together. We were content.

We drove home with the windows open. I can’t remember if it was spring or fall, but the feeling was we hadn’t been able to drive with the windows down for a while and now we could—it felt new and exciting. It might have even been one of those surprise winter evenings where it should have been snowing but instead it was unseasonably warm and every single person felt alive and free and hopeful.

I remember the feeling, and it matched our relationship at that very moment. Everything felt right and easy. We turned the music up as Chris zipped through the streets of our city making our way back home to our babies.

Chris was drunk that night.

I didn’t know it at the time, but he had been drinking most of the day. He wasn’t paying attention and engaging because that’s what people in love do on dates, but because he was drunk and trying hard to not show it. He wasn’t being dynamic and funny because he was feeling alive and free and hopeful like me, he was scared and hiding and pretending.

I’ve forgotten a lot of things about Chris being drunk and lying and hiding, but I’ve never forgotten that date. It still, almost five years later, feels like a blow every time I think of it.

That one still hurts to think about. How much I misread the situation. How much I enjoyed Chris’ personality when it was really another time he wasn’t showing up as himself because he didn’t know how.

There’s a part of me that feels embarrassed to say I had so much fun with Chris that night, and he had to be drunk for me to enjoy him.

——-

Last night as Chris was telling Ellie goodnight, he slurred a word.

She called me in afterward to let me know.

“I think you need to watch Daddy, he might be having a stroke,” she told me. “He slurred a word and then paused for a long time. Make sure he’s feeling okay.”

I assured her he was fine and then went to see if he was fine.

“Ellie thinks you’re having a stroke because you slurred a word,” I said. I wasn’t worried, exactly. But it’s hard to forget some things.

He smirked. “I was trying to think of a new word and I was halfway through saying ‘sleep’ before I could stop it.”

Ellie worries about her daddy. I worry about her daddy. Harper worries about her daddy. We all carry—in our own ways—the worries and anxieties of loving a recovering alcoholic. They show up differently, but they still show up. In our house, they show up as three Graham girls on high alert all the time. It is not the same exhaustion of active addiction, but it is still exhausting.

–—–

Chris Graham is silly now.

He’s silly with the girls at dinner. He’s silly with the dogs as he washes dishes. He’s silly with me as we sit next to each other at a baseball game in Louisville.

I don’t trust his silly.

Growing up in a home with abuse, addiction, and violence knocks the silly out of you really quick. I know Chris didn’t get to be silly as a kid. He didn’t get to be silly with his siblings. He didn’t get to be silly with his parents. It wasn’t safe to draw attention to himself so the last thing he’d want to do was be silly. He learned how to be quiet and not seen and ignored because that was what kept him safe as a child.

Adult Chris is safe now. And he’s starting to be silly again.

But, for me, silly means drinking. I fell in love with a quiet, hurting kid who thought the world required him to hide. It’s still challenging sometimes to recalibrate what I knew then to what I know now.

Chris Graham is sober. I know through his actions and through his words. I know through occasional glimpses of his AA work and friends. I know because of the way he’s showing up in the world now.

But I would be lying if I said my overwhelming urge to protect myself and my girls from that type of pain again doesn’t mean I still look at him suspiciously at times. That I brace myself when it looks like he’s having fun.

Trauma stole Chris Graham’s silly. My own trauma is tempted to do the same.

——-

Growing up in a home with violence, abuse, or addiction changes you forever. It alters the way you see the world and how you experience it, how you show up in it. That’s not just some weak way of excusing people’s behaviors, it’s actual science. When we’re children and growing, our brain stem is growing and developing as well. The experiences we have as children literally get “baked” into our brain stems; these childhood experiences create pathways we’ll use for the rest of our lives.

If your childhood was filled with trauma, chaos, and unsafe people, your brain learned that was the way life was and every single experience after that is filtered through that lens.

If your childhood was filled with safety, love, and stability, your brain stem learned that was the way life was and every single experience after that is filtered through that lens.

(You can read more about how trauma impact our brains in development here.)

Learning new pathways is possible. It’s a big part of recovery, retraining your brain to react differently. It is exhausting, hard work. A person doing this is constantly fighting their own brain, constantly uncomfortable and tired from the work of unlearning things that no longer serve them.

One of the ways Chris learned to be safe as a child was to lie. He lied about everything. He lied before he even thought about it. He still does this. Often, his first response to something is to lie, even when the truth is inconsequential. It’s so ingrained in him that sometimes he’s not even aware he’s doing it.

A lot of recovery, even now, is learning where the truth is. And for Chris, it involves being silly, being engaged in conversations, and making choices he doesn’t have to lie about later.

addiction in five stories

“Shawn met a woman, and she sobered him up,” my dad said. My aunt said. Everyone said.

“That’s not normally how that works,” I said, as gently as possible.

I understand the desperate desire for this to be true. The sudden death of his mom in a car accident, years of addiction, the loss of everything—his wife, his kids, his jobs, his house. I, too, want this new development to be true.

Even if I know it’s never quite that simple.

—–

Chris got the call in the evening.

“His liver and kidneys are shutting down, he’s in the hospital.”

Chris ran to put on shoes, to go see his friend. Matt, who had been a best friend in high school and after, who had been so easy-going and quick to laugh, who had been right beside Chris as he spiraled into addiction. Matt who didn’t have to hide his vices like Chris did. Matt who was now dying because of them.

He didn’t end up going to the hospital that night; Matt was already unconscious. He died the next morning, just shy of 40 years old.

This one, of all the ways alcoholism and addiction have taken from Chris, hurt the most. The reality of what could have been, what should have been, was too close to home.

“The only difference between Matt and I,” Chris said, “was that I had people who told me enough was enough. Who will tell you to stop when everyone is living the same life?”

She sat at the table facing the judge in a floral dress and short-sleeve sweater. She wanted her kid back.

“I’ve been clean 90 days today. I don’t have anyone to be proud of me for that, but I’m proud of me,” she said.

She wanted to get out of town, but she doesn’t have a car and she needs a better job to buy a car. But all the good jobs are in Indianapolis. And she needs a car to get there. Everyone here is someone she used to use with, so it’s easier to just not go outside.

She’s a prisoner in her own home, trying to stay clean and sober and get her kid back.

“I’m doing everything I’m supposed to,” she said, “but I’m also stuck here.”

I’m proud of her, but I can’t say that from where I sit.

—–

I wrote down this quote from a book I was listening to, but I didn’t write down the name of the book and I read so many books that I have no idea where it came from.

“I’ve been sober a month now,” Jeff said.

“All due respect, Jeff, but you’re not sober yet. You just don’t stink so bad,” replied Rhonda.

I stood next to a cornfield on a sunny afternoon in August. It was the kind of day you imagine summer in the Midwest will be: clear and blue, sunny and breezy. It was not too hot. There were puffy, fake clouds in the sky.

I thought about how long it takes to get the stink of addiction off. I thought about how it lingers forever.

I walked back home.

—–

My cousin ended up in the hospital. His new girlfriend—the one who got him sober—calls to tell us he’s not doing well. She is adamant to the doctors, the nurses, the custodians: he has not been drinking.

She would know, of course. She’s the one who finally convinced him to stop. She saved him. Her love saved him.

—–

At the end of July, we went to Matt’s funeral. It is filled with people from Chris’ past.

He doesn’t want to go.

He has to go.

The friends have gotten older, fatter, like all of us. They look tired. They look like their high school selves—in the same style clothes, with the same shoes and cars—but worn out. Drugs and alcohol don’t age well. These people are, in many ways, the same people Chris left all those years ago.

Arrested development describes a person who is “stuck” at an early phase of emotional development. It happens in childhood or adolescences as a response to an experience that they are unable to resolve. It freezes you in a mental state, in a specific period of time, and, while you age, you don’t mature or grow.

At the funeral, we are surrounded by these boys who look like men, but who do the exact same things they did twenty years ago. It makes me want to weep. I wish things were different.

Sometimes I cannot carry the weight of the grief and loss I see. From people who have died. From people who only think they are living.

On my daily walks, I pass crushed beer cans and empty pints of hard liquor in the ditch. I know which ones are new and which ones have been there for years.

Fireball
PBR
Jack Daniels
Coors Light
Coors Light
99 Butterscotch

I do not, most days, think they are my husbands. I know better.

But some days, I think they are.

—–

“He was detoxing,” my aunt tells me when I text to check on Shawn.

“Never trust a drunk,” she replies.

It is, as I said, never quite that simple.

the best rice crispy treats you’ll ever eat

That’s a bold title, but I’m actually really confident in this assertion. These are the best rice crispy treats you’ll ever eat. Just do exactly as I say and you, too, will be the hit of every party, gathering, or after school snack.

A few things before we begin. (I’m not going to tell you a long story about how I visited a beautiful marshmallow field in the spring of 1989 where I discovered the perfect fluffy morsels. I promise.) These are very specific tips to make these little squares of heaven the best they can be.

Tip #1: Don’t buy name brand cereal. The name brand has a coating on them that makes the rice crispies less absorbent. You want the off-brand rice crispies for maximum absorbency. I prefer the Aldi brand, but Wal-mart, Kroger, etc. will probably work too.

Tip #2: If you want to brown the butter, do it. When I brown my butter, the rice crispy treats get a little crunchy on top which you might like. If you want a softer rice crispy, don’t brown the butter. I think both ways are good and, depending on time and the way the wind is blowing, I’ll do one or the other.

Tip #3: My recipe calls for a whole box of cereal. This is going to make a lot of rice crispy treats. This is a good thing, but they definitely won’t fit in a 9×13 pan. I prefer a baking sheet lined with parchment paper for this recipe.

Tip #4: When you add in the cereal, you can remove the pot from the heat or leave it. Either is fine, but the end result will be a little different. If you leave it on, the mixture will melt the final marshmallows into little pockets of goodness. If you remove it from the heat, the final marshmallows will retain more of their original shape. Do whichever way you like.

Tip #5: When you transfer the mixture to the cookie sheet, don’t mash it down. You want fluffy, airy rice crispy treats so just pour the goodness out as evenly as you can and try not to mess with it too much. If I have to spread it and the spatula isn’t working, I grab another piece of parchment paper and use that to spread it. It doesn’t stick to the parchment.

Okay, that’s it. Here’s what you need:
– 12 ounces rice crispy cereal (about 12 cups)
– 30 ounces of mini marshmallows (or three bags)
– 12 tablespoons of butter (1 1/2 sticks)
– 1 teaspoon salt
– 1 teaspoon vanilla

Don’t argue about these amounts or question them. Don’t let that evil little voice inside your head say that’s just too many marshmallows. We don’t accept that kind of negativity here.

Directions:
1. Spread parchment paper over a baking sheet and set aside.
2. In a large pot, melt butter on medium-low heat. Brown if you’re feeling fancy.
3. Add about 25 ounces of marshmallows, reserve 5 ounces for later.
4. Stir constantly so marshmallows and butter don’t burn. Once marshmallows are completely melted, add salt and vanilla.
5. Add rice crispies and stir until mixture coats the cereal. (See note above about whether or not you want to remove the pot from heat when you do this.)
6. Add in the remaining 5 ounces of marshmallows and stir until incorporated.
7. Transfer to the parchment-lined baking sheet. Spread it as evenly as possible without smashing the mixture down. Air is your friend here.
8. Let cool and enjoy.

These don’t last long in our house and there are never leftovers if we take them somewhere, but if you do need to store them, it’s best to let them cool completely, cut them into squares, and store them in an airtight container. I use parchment paper to separate the layers, otherwise they will all stick together.

If you make these, let me know what you think!

In the Jordan’s water or any other

Dennis called on Thursday to talk about Harper.

“She wants to be baptized,” he said as middle schoolers talked and yelled in the background. “She expressed interest last night during service.”

This wasn’t unexpected.

My daughter has wanted to be baptized since late 2019. We were making our way through a workbook our church gave us about preparing to be baptized when the pandemic hit. And then we watched our church community turn proudly hateful and paranoid and selfish. We watched the people who taught our children in Sunday school and sang worship songs from stage use misinformation and fear as biblical principles. We saw and heard them speak ugly words about people God had created and loved fiercely.

We never went back to that church.

It all felt so hypocritical and fake. We couldn’t stomach it, and we definitely couldn’t let our girls think this was how you followed Jesus. So we left the church Chris and I grew up at, the church we met at and served at for decades, the church where we married and raised babies.

We left.

It has been two years, and there is still grief and sadness. I’m not going to pretend it wasn’t one of the hardest things we’ve ever done. We don’t regret it. But we are still untangling a lot of the mess and hurt and bad theology we learned there.

Long story short: Harper was, in the summer of 2022, still waiting to be baptized.

So when Dennis called from the church camp that we know preaches a lot of the same messages we left our church over, I wasn’t surprised but I was suspicious.

No, we don’t want Harper to be baptized at camp this week.
Her parents would like to be present, and we can’t make it there during the week.
Yes, we can have her baptized when she comes home.

“I assume you have a home church that can do it?” Dennis asked as we wrapped up our conversation.

“Sure,” I said, because Dennis, you probably don’t want to have this conversation with me right now.

It would probably be the same conversation that would start if I came to the women’s retreat weekend on the flyer I was handed as we walked out of the gym after checking the girls in for their week of camp.

After we said goodbye, Chris and I climbed back into the car to head home. I folded the women’s retreat flyer and put it in the cupholder. As we pulled out of the parking lot, Chris said, “I almost told the lady ‘You don’t want my wife at your retreat’ when she handed that to you.”

“That’s the truth,” I said.

Dennis, the truth is much more complicated than you’ve got time for, but we could start with the rules for girls’ swimsuits at camp and why only men can be deans.

close up of a pool floaty made to look like a donut with colorful sprinkles floating in a pool.

I picked the girls up from church camp on a muggy Friday afternoon. They were tired and cranky and dirty. When we got home, Chris baptized Harper in our swimming pool. Harper wore her mermaid bikini, I took her confession of faith, and my tattooed husband submerged her in the cool, crystal clear water in our backyard.

It felt simple and extraordinary.
It felt like the perfect time and too late.
It felt like a reminder that following God doesn’t have to be fancy or within the rules of a denomination or with a crowd of people surrounding you.

A private backyard baptism felt like the most on-brand choice for this moment in our lives. We cannot stomach the pomp and circumstance of church. We cannot abide the culture of religion that has hurt so many people we love. We cannot reconcile the twists of scripture that lead to power and greed and control.

But we love Jesus and we want to follow Him and we want to live like Him. We crave the new birth that baptism offers, the washing away of the old and the renewing of the spirit. We desperately desire the easy yoke of following Christ as we try to operate in a world that keeps making more and more rules, boundaries, and caveats.

So we baptized our daughter, even as we struggle with so much doubt and confusion and mess. We baptized her, even when we’re not sure of our place in a society that forces obedience instead of joy and freedom.

We have so many questions, but Jesus isn’t one of them.

The next morning I sat on my porch swing drinking coffee. I was reading Wholehearted Faith by Rachel Held Evans and because God has never stopped showing up in these years since we left church, the next chapter I was to read was called “The Steady Work of Living Water.”

In it, Rachel writes, “My baptism reminds me that I am a Christian because Christianity gives me a name that supersedes every other name the world will try to give me. I am a Christian because my baptism has declared that I am a beloved child of God. There is no failure, no sin, no accomplishment, no success that can change that.”

“Baptism, whether in the Jordan’s water or any other, ties us to the cycle of life, through all of which runs water. It reminds us that we belong. It is, of course, much easier to write that out than to reckon with the reality of what belonging to that larger community—to that fractious assemblage of humanity, prone as it is to hurt as much as to help—really means.”

And that is the reminder I needed: we are beloved children of God and we belong. The details can be figured out later.

a fresh start

I removed over 1,000 posts.

It was time.

I’ve done this before, whittling down the blog posts that live here. I’ve been writing on this blog since 2008, and we—this blog and myself—have seen some things.

In 2014 (I think?), I paid someone to redesign my blog and move it to a bigger server. While that was happening, I deleted about 100 blog posts. Just dumb stuff I had written as I tried to find my voice on the world wide web. I don’t regret taking them down, but I regret deleting them completely. Did I not know about reverting posts to drafts? Did I not understand I could take them down, but still keep them for myself?

That’s what I did this time: slowly read through over 1,400 blog posts and reverted most of them to drafts. They still exist, and I can access them anytime I want, but they’re not for public consumption anymore.

I did this for a number of reasons.

Some of the blog posts were just dumb. Why did I post that? Who cares about that? Why did I take the time to even write that nonsense?

Some of the blog posts were not who I am anymore. I took down most of the fashion/clothes posts. Remember when I tried to be a fashion blogger? I hope you don’t. I really hope you don’t. I’d taken down a ton of those a few years ago (Copycat Wednesday, anyone?), but many still existed. I left a few up for old times’ sake—to keep me humble and slightly embarrassed—but most of them are gone now. RIP fashionable Mary. You will not be missed.

Some of the blog posts were sponsored content I don’t care about anymore. Also, no one paid me enough money to keep those on my site for years. If Lenovo or Kindle or Thermos want those lame posts back up, they can send me another check. I’ll also accept PayPal or Venmo.

Some of the blog posts were things I don’t believe anymore.

As I figured out what I wanted to write about on the internet, I wrote about lots of things. Some of them don’t need to be read anymore. I’ve learned better ways, learned better truths, learned where I was wrong. I don’t want bad theology I once believed to harm people who might stumble across something I’ve read. It’s not helpful or needed. At times, I wrote things unaware of the privilege I was operating from. How my advice wasn’t as simple as I made it out to be.

I’m so glad I never wrote a book in my 20s or 30s. I’d die to know some of the things I had once believed were out there forever, and I couldn’t take them back. I know the internet is forever, but it’s a little less forever than a published book. (Right? Please say yes.)

Recently, I read a self-help book. The author is in her late twenties and full of life experiences she’s learned lessons from and feels like everyone else should know them too. I cringed a lot while I read her book. I already know she’s going to look back in a decade and wish she hadn’t written some of the things she did. Experience is a hard teacher, and we all have to do it one way or another. Hers will just be very, very public.

Reading my old blog posts through the lens of a 40-year-old woman who’s had years of therapy was uncomfortable. I could see how hard I was trying and failing, how much energy I was exerting to keep a failing marriage alive, how some of the things I was doing was enabling a really sick husband. I left a few of those posts up. Not because I loved them, but because if anyone spent the time to go back to them, they probably knew our marriage story, and it felt important to show some of the chaos and heartache in real time.

Maybe one day I’ll feel different and remove them. Maybe not. I reserve the right to change my mind about anything I post at anytime. I’m the one paying the bills to keep the lights on. [such a dad thing to say]

I’ve spend the past 3-ish years removing pictures of my daughters from the internet. I started with my Instagram account and archived all their little toddler and baby pictures. Then I removed most things they were featured in. I loved those pictures, but they’re for us and not the world. Last year, I deleted Facebook and all the images I’d posted of them there. I’d stopped posting their pictures on Facebook around 2018, but deleting my account took care of all the older ones.

The past few months, I removed most pictures of my girls from this space as well.

Some still exist, don’t get me wrong. There are a few family photos and travel posts still up. And some random other ones. But they don’t need to be on the internet because of me anymore. I don’t post their pictures on Instagram unless I have their permission and usually not in any permanent spots. I took away some of their autonomy when they were younger, and I wish I hadn’t. I’m part of the first generation of parents raising kids in a digital age, and I think most of us spent a little too much time posting pictures of our kids for people (and strangers) to see.

I’d do things differently now. I can’t change the past, but I can edit it from my WordPress dashboard. So I did.

I don’t want to disappear from the internet. I mostly like it here. But I want to show up in a new way.

Maybe you’ve noticed pictures of my children’s faces don’t really show up in blog posts much anymore. There are a lot of pictures of their backs. If they’re in pictures, they’re small and out of focus, they’re wearing masks or peeking out of water. That’s intentional. This is my blog, not theirs. Their peers are on the internet, and my kids should get to decide how they show up on it. Plus, I don’t want to give estranged family members access—in any form—to my children. They don’t deserve that. They don’t deserve even a glimpse of my magical children.

Truthfully, I didn’t think anyone would notice or care this happened. I didn’t even plan to mention it. But I forget that even though I have been very sporadic about writing here, people still read my words and pay attention to this space. I know it’s true because I see the blog stats each month when WordPress emails them to me. Every month, I’m surprised at the traffic to this dusty little place.

I had removed about 500 posts when I got a message from a loyal reader asking about a post she loved but couldn’t find. Her sister was getting married, and she wanted to send it to her. It’s gone, I said. I’m cleaning house and taking down things that might misrepresent what I believe now. I just don’t want to harm anyone with my bad theology.

She said she understood and appreciated it. Then she said, please don’t ever take down ‘My Grandmothers’ Hands.’ It’s one of my favorite posts.

I assured her it wasn’t going anywhere.

There’s still a lot of stuff here. About 300 posts, to be specific. Some of the writing is good. Some of the writing is not good. I’m glad I’ve learned and grown and gotten better at some things. I still have a lot to learn. I still have a lot of growing to do. Which means more posts might come down one day. I’m sure I’ve missed some things I should probably take down right now.

A lot of reading my old blog posts was a practice in giving myself grace.

I’ll give myself that going forward too, as I stretch my blog post muscles and find my footing here once again. I hope you’ll stick around to see how it goes.

on my porch swing

In July, the rain finally came, flooding the little pockets of bare earth under the trees lining the cornfield.

It got hot, but we opened the windows for a few days, letting in the breeze and letting out the stuffy, stale air.

I sat on my porch swing.

I drove to doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments, lunch with a friend, the grocery store, the library.

We listened to old albums from my college days, hearing the words for the first time all over again. Some of them make more sense twenty years later. We listened to Harry Styles on repeat, both for the girls and for me.

I sat on my porch swing.

My garden didn’t grow. Cucumbers, tomatoes, green peppers, tomatillos—everything is slow this year. The summer has been dry, the bunnies have been ruthless, and I planted late. But do you need a zucchini? I have 400.

Passed by my dead aunt’s vacant house this week; there was a black cat sitting on the sidewalk looking at the front door expectantly. Me too, cat, I thought as I drove by, me too.

Ellie has dedicated her week to making the perfect grilled cheese sandwich. Harper took a full bowl of her favorite cereal and milk to bed one morning. It ended exactly how you’d think it would.

We are all learning this summer.

I sat on my porch swing.

There’s a balance beam in the yard, Harper is mapping out routines and trying to cartwheel without falling off. Ellie—if you can’t find her—will be next door at the neighbors or on top of the shed watching the world go by. We are busy. We are not busy.

I sat on my porch swing.

The last time I talked to my grandma, she asked when I was heading back to school. I haven’t been in the classroom since 2018. It’s not worth correcting her, she’ll just get confused. We went back-to-school shopping this week, and I bought myself new pens and post-its, a shirt and a notebook. Maybe I forgot I’m not in the classroom anymore, too.

Our mailbox—the third or fourth since we moved in—is on its last leg. It’s become more shocking if people don’t hit it when they leave our house now. I wonder what the mail carrier thinks. It’s currently facing the wrong way.

I sat on my porch swing.

Gave myself a paper cut in my armpit—don’t ask, it just happened—and I might not survive the trauma.

I went for long, sweaty walks during the hottest part of the day. There’s something I enjoy about the unpleasantness of it. Maybe it’s penance for my comfortable office, comfortable air conditioning, comfortable life. I search for discomfort to not become numb.

We got new neighbors and their grandkids bring squeals and laughter to a normally quiet block.

I sat on my porch swing.

I watched the ground be broken for burial. I watched the family gather around the headstone. I watched the discarded flowers wilt under the relentless sun.

I sat on my porch swing.

I read the news, made phone calls, raged. I ignored the news, hid my phone, paid attention to the grass and the wind and the hummingbirds that buzz around the flowers I can see from my front window.

We filled the pool with cool water, with bright floaties, with wriggling bodies.

The girls went to camp. I went to Ohio for work. Chris went to the top of tall buildings downtown.

I wrote and cooked, read and napped, watched and grieved.

I sat on my porch swing.

We went to the drive-in and learned we are not made for the summer drive-in. We are fall drive-in people. We are go-to-bed-early people. We are sleep-through-the-summer-movie people.

There were book club dinners, birthday dinners, and drive-thru dinners. There was trivia night and shutting down the Mexican restaurant with loud, energtic friends.

I sat on my porch swing.

We watched a baseball game in Louisville and played cornhole in Columbus.

I sat on my porch swing.

We said goodbye to summer break. I bought my second pair of overalls. I learned sometimes you can do all the right things and things still don’t work out.

I sat on my porch swing.

And then July was over.

New York City Birthday Trip

4745 days
676 weeks
156 months
13 years

She’s been here for 13 years.

All the cliches about time fit here. All of them, insert them right here: ___

We surprised our soon-to-be 13 year old with a trip to New York City in February. When the girls were little, and we were very poor, we dreamed about celebrating their official entrance into the teenage years with a surprise trip. It was a distant, far away dream, something we felt we had plenty of time to prepare for. A teenager? That is absurd.

But here we are and here she is; it wasn’t the future anymore. It was now. She was going to be a teenager.

So we booked a trip, grabbed Uncle Ricky, and took off for the Big Apple. When we dreamed about their birthday trips, we didn’t know specifics: where we would go, what we would do, what we would see. We’d let their future selves tell us.

For Ellie, her future self would be obsessed with Hamilton. So that meant we were headed to Broadway.

It was a three-day trip cut a little short due to a giant snowstorm that shut down the city and airport for 24+ hours. We landed in New York late Friday afternoon instead of early morning, but we managed to still cram in every single thing on our very full list. We went non-stop for three days, tumbling into bed each night after 16 hours of exploring and eating. Here’s what we did.

Before our trip, we bought 3-pass City Passes to do some of the touristy things at a discount. I highly recommend this pass, it was worth the price, and it was easy to make reservations online ahead of time for things we wanted to do. [They have these for many cities, and in larger increments, so if you’re traveling to a major city soon, it’s worth checking out.]

We stayed at the Fairfield Inn & Suites on West 36th Street. It was a convenient 12-15 minute walk to Broadway shows, Times Square, and tons of other stuff. We could get on the subway easily as well. The hotel had a really nice continental breakfast, it was clean, and I’d stay there again without hesitation.

Friday afternoon we ate a delicious meal at Junior’s Cheesecake and then wandered around Times Square while my brother went to a Broadway show. Times Square is super cheesy and bright and full of tourists, but Ellie loved it. It was 9:00 PM and we were tired from a long day of travel, but the city was alive and it was her first glimpse at how electric everything can be. She walked around giggling to herself all evening.

Saturday morning, we grabbed fresh coffee and bagels from Liberty Bagels then jumped on the subway to head to Central Park. We explored the freezing cold, frozen park (it never got above 25 degrees while we were in town—brrrr) until the American Museum of Natural History opened. Chris and the girls love all the Night at the Museum movies and have watched them many times. Ellie loved visiting the setting of a movie, and she got to meet Rexy! (The skeleton pictured above; he comes to life in the movie.)

Then we headed to Grand Central Station. Ellie is obsessed with baking and wants to run a bakery when she’s older, so part of our trip included stopping at any bakery we saw and sampling the offerings. She ate the best slice of chocolate cake from Magnolia Bakery in the basement of Grand Central Station. After that, we rushed over to Rockefeller Center for a tour and visit to the top of the Rock. We watched people ice skating on the Plaza, shopped at FAO Schwartz, and marveled at the clear views from 70 stories up.

Afterward, we did some more shopping, visited St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and wandered around one of the New York City Public Library buildings. Then we headed back to the hotel to get ready for dinner and Hamilton.

Ellie wanted sushi for her birthday dinner so Ricky made reservations at Sushiva before our 8 PM show. By the time we got seated at the theater, Ellie could not stop smiling. We were in the room where it happened, and she could not be more excited. The show was wonderful. I’m sure you didn’t expect that, but it was. I’m glad my brother—a fellow Broadway fan—was there to experience it with Ellie. It wouldn’t have been the same without him. After the show, we stayed by the stage door to meet the cast. This definitely put the night over the top for our girl. Best birthday ever.

Sunday morning, we headed to The High Line, got to see the Vessel at Hudson Yards, and visited Chelsea Market. We had 11:00 reservations for the Statue of Liberty & Ellis Island tour so we headed down there. I imagine we’d have spent more time there if it wasn’t so cold. Ellie decided to skip the Ellis Island stop, and we made our way to Wall Street, the Fearless Girl statue, and Chinatown. We ate a late lunch, shopped, visited bakeries, and wandered the streets. Lunar New Year celebrations had been happening all weekend, so it was full of people and decorated beautifully.

To complete our NYC experience, we haggled with some local ladies over knock-off designer goods for some friends back home. We stopped in Little Italy for some cannolis to take home, then went back to the hotel to grab our bags.

We hopped on an 8 PM flight back to Indy and were home, snuggled in our beds, by midnight. Exhausted but so, so happy.

2021 Holiday Movie Guide

In November, the Graham girls (Ellie, Harper, and myself) decided to dedicate ourselves to hours of movie watching for the sake of others. We are nothing if not givers, and we decided a great way to use our precious time would be to watch as many holiday movies as possible and then tell others about them. Think of it as our gift to the world during this challenging time.

Before we share our reviews, we need to set the stage: I don’t really watch much TV, but when colder weather comes and I can’t be outside as much, I have some free time to fill. Normally, I watched completely cringe-y holiday movies by myself while cooking or after the girls would go to bed. Surprisingly, Chris Graham wasn’t interested in joining me for these shows. Now as the girls get older, they’re joining in on the tradition. Saturday morning cartoons have been replaced with romantic holiday movies. Sunday night family movie night has turned into cheesy Christmas shows. Chris Graham is distraught. The Graham girls are ecstatic. I can’t tolerate the level of bad acting and predictable storylines ten months out of the year, but for November and December, I welcome all of it. The more horrible the better, please and thank you.

This is not a complete list. There are countless holiday movies across many streaming platforms to choose from. We’re still watching more as we speak. We’ll never get to all of them and, while we’ve resigned ourselves to this sad fact, we are not going down without a fight.

_{I bought this Echo Show 8 (affiliate link) on Black Friday to up my holiday baking game. I can’t see our living room TV from the kitchen so I normally just watch movies on my phone, but it’s annoying to go back and forth between recipes and movies, or text messages and movies. So I treated myself to an Echo Show, and I can’t tell you how ridiculously happy I am about it. Christmas music in the mornings as the girls get ready for school, recipes on the screen while I make dinner, and Netflix while I bake. I think this is the peak for me. There’s no where else to go from here.}

_{What my kitchen looked like yesterday before I started the baking marathon. Holiday movies are needed for emotional support.}

Home Sweet Home Alone (on Netflix)
The girls picked this as their first holiday movie. It’s a newer spin-off on the original Home Alone series with recognizable actors and some fun cameos. I thought another Home Alone movie was a bad idea, but this works and the girls recommend it.

Love Hard (on Netflix)
I liked this one. The main love interest is Asian and the movie pushes back on some stereotypes of love and relationships (but the main characters are both toxic in their own ways, how romantic!). I liked the diverse casting choices; there is one unimaginative storyline with the best friend who is supposed to be in AA but is often drinking in her scenes. It goes without saying that I’m just not a big fan of making light of the disease of addiction, so if that will be annoying to you, skip this one.

The Holiday (on Netflix)
Okay, this isn’t a new movie, obviously. But I’m including it on my list because it was the first Christmas movie I watched in November to kick off the holiday season, so I’m reminding you it’s great and you should watch it and it will never go out of style.

Holidate (on Netflix)
Completely predictable and definitely not for kids, but I loved it. This is the level of cheesy Christmas movie I want for everything I watch. Just fun to watch and makes a great background movie for wrapping presents or baking. (There is a lot of drinking—I mean, a LOT of drinking—in this one, just FYI.)

A California Christmas (on Netflix)
This one was actually pretty dumb, but that doesn’t disqualify it during the months of November and December. I half watched it while working on my gift guides last month, and it served its purpose perfectly. You can only pay attention to this movie half the time and know exactly what is going on.

A California Christmas: City Lights (on Netflix)
Oh look, I said A California Christmas was kinda dumb, yet I watched the sequel a few weeks later. Still kinda dumb, but—no shame—I like the escape of a really dumb movie right now. I highly recommend this coping mechanism to everyone reading this.

Jingle Jangle (on Netflix)
This one is super fun. Watch it with your whole family. This is our second year watching this one and it’s becoming part of our holiday traditions. Diverse cast AND a girl who loves science? Sold.

Holiday Calendar (on Netflix)
I really liked this one. Diverse cast, creative-yet-cheesy storyline, and fun to watch. I did my first round of holiday baking while watching, and this movie was a great companion while I mixed and baked and iced.

Ernest Saves Christmas (on Disney+)
As a child of the 80s, I take the responsibility of teaching my children about Ernest P. Worrell very seriously. So when they selected Ernest Saves Christmas as a movie one evening, I realized my job here was done. They are ready to go out into the world on their own. God speed, children. KnoWhutImean, Vern?

Let It Snow (on Netflix)
This is a movie based on the YA novel by John Green, Lauren Myracle, and Maureen Johnson. It’s definitely for older teens; I didn’t watch this one with the girls, but as a life-long YA lover, this was delightful. It wasn’t super cheesy, which I always appreciate, and it had the feel of a classic 80’s high school movie. This is one of my favorites this year.

A Castle for Christmas (on Netflix)
This one is especially silly, but it has Brooke Shields and Cary Elwes so I was able to convince the girls to watch it with me when I said it was the guy from The Princess Bride. There are Scottish accents and local pubs wear people have a knitting club, so this was just delightful to watch. Silly, but delightful.

Single All The Way (on Netflix)
Best friends who aren’t in love with each other are madly in love with each other by the end of the movie. I did not see that coming. But I liked the shocking twist nonetheless.

Holiday in the Wild (on Netflix)
Kristin Davis and Rob Lowe? Yes, please. Full disclosure: this one has some pretty hard White savior vibes (it’s set in Africa) and that’s annoying, but it’s beautiful to watch and they fall in love! Who saw that coming?!

A Very Country Christmas (on Netflix)
I’m not even sure why I clicked on this one, I’m not a fan of country music, but I was making dinner one night and I was desperate. My favorite part was Deana Carter as the friend and orchestrator of love; while I’m not a big fan of country music, it’s against the law to not like “Strawberry Wine,” obviously.

Operation Christmas Drop (on Netflix)
Hawaii, Christmas, the US military, and another side of White savior complex. Merry Christmas, from the United States who will destroy local economies and natural resources, but then air-drop bags of rice and blankets so you can feel #blessed by our presence.

Holiday Rush (on Netflix)
The girls loved this one about a widowed father and his four children. Dad loses his job right before Christmas and things get stressful…until they learn the real meaning of the holidays. Good for kids and parents.

Holiday Home Makeover with Mr. Christmas (on Nexflix)
The girls and I binged 3 or 4 of these episodes one Saturday morning. If you like reality TV shows, makeover shows, or sad stories, this one is for you. Mr. Christmas is a professional holiday decorator and he travels around the country with his elves spreading good cheer for those who’ve experienced loss or tragedy. Christmas lights solve everything. Trust me.

A Christmas Prince + A Christmas Prince: The Royal Wedding + A Christmas Prince: The Royal Baby (on Netflix)
I watched A Christmas Prince last year, but didn’t feel the need to continue on with the series. My children, on the other hand, went all in. They followed the Prince and his lady into marriage and babies. By the third movie, Ellie was able to predict the cheesy lines before they were said, which is just a sign that she’s learning some valuable writing lessons this holiday season.

8-Bit Christmas (on HBOMax)
This wins as best new holiday movie for me. If you’re a kid from the 80s or early 90s, please watch this. I don’t care if you have kids or not. Or maybe you were raising kids during this time period? You’ll love this one too. Nintendo, Cabbage Patch dolls, and the fashion are like taking a trip back in time. This one is funny and heartwarming. 8-Bit Christmas for everyone.

I’m spending the weekend baking through this list, and I just started Dash & Lily. It’s a series with 8 episodes (30 minutes or less). I normally avoid holiday series because I don’t want to commit to something that long, but I’ve still got hours of baking to do, and not having to pick 2-3 movies out this weekend is enough for me to take the plunge.

I hope your weekend before Christmas is filled with cozy fires, warm ovens, and good company. I hope your Christmas shopping is done, and maybe you get snow. And I hope your TV is playing silly holiday movies that distract you from the outside world for just a little bit.

DISCLOSURE: AFFILIATE LINKS USED

2021 Ultimate Holiday Baking Menu

The night before Thanksgiving, a friend and I sat at my kitchen table. We talked about kids and travel plans. We talked about changing family dynamics and grief. We talked about what we were learning, what we were struggling with, and what Christmas traditions we wanted to continue this year.

And, most importantly, we talked about what we were going to bake for the holidays. My friend showed up with a stack of recipes, ingredients to try a new cookie, and a bag of candy we needed to sample.

Holiday baking is serious business. That night, we compared notes, edited plans, and did a few experiments. Yes, the next day was Thanksgiving, but the cookies and candy we were going to eat in December were already center stage. Nothing some middle-aged moms love more than baking in December.

Here’s my 2021 plan for holiday goodies. Some of these are regulars that show up every year (looking at you, chocolate chip cookies and zesty Chex Mix) and some of them are new additions (decadent rice crispy treats and Chelsea’s chocolate peanut butter balls), but they’re all delicious and deserve a spot in your cookie jar this season.

Chocolate Chip Cookies
If I leave these out, the people will revolt. Here’s the recipe. If you follow me on IG, you can see a Reel later this week with all my tricks and tips to make them.

Decadent Rice Krispies Treats
Full disclosure, my friend Christine perfected this recipe. I’d been using a different one, because I wanted something a little more gooey than the traditional ones. Then we went camping this summer, and she brought a batch of these with her. I think my family finished off the whole container before the second night. These are grown up, richer Rice Krispie treats. A million times better than the ones you had as a kid. (Also, this recipe calls for the whole box of cereal and whole bags of mini marshmallows. Nothing more annoying than using half a box of cereal or marshmallows and then letting the rest sit until they go stale. We don’t really use those things for much else in our house, so being able to make a large batch and have nothing left to store until I decide to throw it away is a bonus.)

Ingredients:
1 box (10 oz.) of Rice Krispies
12 tablespoons of butter
3 bags (10 oz.) of mini marshmallows
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla

Directions:
– Melt butter in a large pot. Browning it just ups the flavor, but it’s not necessary.
– Reserve 3 cups of marshmallows then pour the rest in the pot with the butter.
– Slowly melt the marshmallows, stirring continuously.
– Once the marshmallows are melted, add the salt and vanilla.
– Remove from heat and add the Rice Krispies, stirring until the cereal is coated in the marshmallow mixture.
– Then add the remaining marshmallows into the pot and incorporate.
– Transfer the cereal mixture to a greased pan or cookie sheet covered in parchment paper. (This makes a lot! Don’t pick a small pan.)
– Spread the cereal mixture out evenly; don’t mash it down, you want the treats to be airy and gooey, not packed in and completely solid.
– Let cool and enjoy!

Extra Credit Additions:
Add in mini chocolate chips with the 3 cups of mini marshmallows if you’re feeling fancy. My friend Christine buys the bulk bags of Lucky Charms marshmallows from Rural King and throws those in there. (They also sell the tiny marshmallows, the kind you see in hot chocolate packets. Those would be fun too!) Throw in sprinkles, whatever your little heart desires. If you don’t want to add more stuff to mix in, just add the chocolate or sprinkles to the top. You can’t really mess these up.

White Chocolate Oatmeal Cranberry Cookies
I first saw this recipe years ago on the side of an Ocean Spray dried cranberry package. I’ve been making them a few times a year ever since. Every time I make these, I think the dough looks too dry and I’ve done something wrong…then I try one for quality control purposes and they’re perfect. So don’t freak out if you’re used to wetter dough, these work their magic in the oven and come through in the end.

Chelsea’s Chocolate Peanut Butter Balls
I grew up eating buckeyes at family Christmas gatherings. Both my grandmas made them, so we were never without and that made me feel #blessed. But I’d never made them; they didn’t seem like a thing I should make. It might ruin the magic. But then my friend Chelsea shared this recipe and I finally took the plunge last year. She uses Rice Krispies in her balls so they are lighter than the traditional ones you might have grown up eating. What’s great about this is you can eat more of them. One traditional buckeye and you’re done because they’re super rich. These peanut butter balls? 3-4 with ease. Don’t make these too far in advance of your holiday gathering though, because they will not last. I’m serious. Be careful.

Puppy Chow (or Muddy Buddies for people who like to be wrong)
I made a batch of Puppy Chow last year on a whim with leftover cereal, and the girls went crazy for it. I forgot how delicious it is and how fun it is to make. Here’s the recipe I used. We just sprinkled this in cookie containers as filler, but putting it in cute bags and tying it with some ribbon is a fancy touch if you’re in the mood to impress.

Chocolate-Covered Oreos
Okay, so this recipe is a little more intense than I normally do, but I love the look of the sticks with it, so I’m sharing it in case you do too. If you just want to coat some Oreos in melted chocolate and add some sprinkles, do that. This recipe has all the information you’ll need. The girls love helping with these!

Chocolate-Covered Pretzel Rods
This is similar to the Oreos, so if you like the idea of holiday treats, but baking isn’t really your jam, these should work for you. Also, they just look pretty and festive. For a fun twist, bag a few of these in a Christmas baggies and top your gifts with them.

Rolo Pretzel Turtles
These are classics and super easy. If you feel like baking is hard and everything always ends up ruined, start here. Low heat in the oven with lots of pre-made things. You’re literally just warming up some stuff. I bought my bag of Rolos too early this season and have to pick up another one this weekend to be able to make these. But no regrets, honestly. Those Rolos supported me well.

Iced Sugar Cookies
Make this dough the day before you want to roll out the cookies and bake them for the best flavor. Here’s the recipe. Ice with whatever your heart desires, you can’t really go wrong with these cookies. (Side story: this is a recipe my mom got from a friend when I was in elementary school. The lady was a home ec teacher and knew her cookies. This recipe calls for Crisco and you just have to go with it. Don’t ask questions.)

Zesty Chex Mix
My family LOVES this stuff. It’s really bold, so if you don’t like garlicky, salty treats, skip this one. For everyone else, make a few batches with this recipe and take it to all your holiday gatherings. Your breath will be kickin’ afterward, but it’s worth the sacrifice. (I normally make 3-4 batches to use up all the cereal. Otherwise, it’s just goes to waste because no one eats it for breakfast.) This one will be on Instagram this week too, if that’s your jam.

Banana Bread
I make banana bread all the time. It’s a great way to use up bananas that no one ate, and the bread freezes really well. I’ve shared before that I believe in the ministry of banana bread. If someone is hurting or sick or just having a bad Tuesday, I’ll grab a loaf or two from the freezer and deliver it to them. You can do this too or whip up a batch for Christmas morning. I use a four-loaf stone from Pampered Chef to make smaller loaves, but this recipe can be made into muffins or one giant loaf as well.

Two new recipes I’m trying this weekend:
Soft Gingerbread Cookies (link)
The girls decorated gingerbread houses about a week ago. While they were working, I realized they’ve never actually had gingerbread cookies. Harper kept licking her house, which was edible, but probably not delicious. Then I saw these, and they made my mouth water. We’re trying them out this weekend.

The Very Best Chocolate Cookies (link)
Both the gingerbread cookie recipe and this one are from Pinch of Yum. She always has recipes that look delicious, now we get to see if they actually are. (I have no doubt they’re good, I’m just being dramatic.) I need to grab a few ingredients to be able to make these and then it.is.on.

The girls and I love to spend a long weekend in December baking and watching cringe-worthy Christmas movies. We buy a few DIY Christmas ornament kits from the craft store and assemble ornaments. Sunday afternoon, we pack up all the goodies topped with homemade ornaments, jump in the car, and drive around the city dropping off packages of deliciousness to all our favorite people. We put Elf on the TV, sing Christmas carols at the top of our lungs, and try to sneak onto front porches without getting caught (with the prevalence of Ring doorbells and cameras, this is actually pretty challenging!).

For me, this is reminiscent of the Christmas cookie Tupperware my grandma would drop off every December to our house when I was a kid. We’d come home and find the huge bin sitting on the chest freezer in our garage. It was a mad dash into the house to open the container and grab your favorite sweets before someone else did (buckeyes and the green shortbread cookies with red sprinkles, please and thank you; if you chose wrong and got the chocolate coconut balls, it was acceptable to immediately barf them into the trash can. Sorry, Grandma).

I hope my friends aren’t barfing our holiday creations into the trash can, but who knows. They’re all nice enough not to mention that part if they are. But I’m actually pretty confident you could make anything on this list and it would be met with nothing but love. Last year a friend was having a particularly challenging time, so we returned to her house a few days later with another package of cookies. So maybe make a few extras and keep them on hand for holiday parties and emergency emotional support. Because, truly, everyone loves holiday treats.

I Deleted Facebook

No, really, it’s gone.

I’ve been dreaming about it for a while; this break up has been slowly coming for years.

It began four or five years ago when I deleted it from my phone. I wanted one less thing to waste time on so I removed the Facebook app.

It was probably around 2016. I was beginning to see stuff from people I was friends with that I didn’t like. Stuff that made my heart hurt, things that made me angry, things that made me lose respect and patience and love.

I didn’t like those feelings so I limited my Facebook access to my computer.

The two things keeping me on Facebook at the time: Facebook was good for my blog, for my writing career. And it held a lot of old pictures and videos I loved.

I began sharing less on Facebook. The past few years, I’ve probably posted something once a month? Maybe less. I stopped sharing most things about my kids online because they’re older now and it doesn’t feel like my place anymore. One day they’ll be able to see the things I’ve posted about them online. And while I don’t think there’s anything bad, they’re their own people with their own stories to tell and I want to give them the freedom to do that.

They still show up on blog posts and Instagram, but it’s very intentional and only with their permission. But mostly, I just avoid sharing about my kids now.

I choose to write about and share my life on the internet. They get that choice too.

As someone who runs a “business” on Facebook, things have changed a lot since I first created that Facebook page in 2011. So many things.

In 2021, I had 2,000+ followers, but none of them got to see the things I posted unless I paid Facebook to access their feeds. More than 2,000 followers and, on average, about 100 people would see a post organically.

I just don’t want to play those games.

Granted, I don’t rely on my blog or social media accounts for income. I blog for no other reason than I enjoy it. This is the exact same reason—maybe with just more focus and intention—I started this blog in 2008. (Shout out to Blogspot and all the dedicated people who used to read all the weird crap I wrote there! I’m slowly going through my archives and taking down lots of things I wrote a decade or more ago. There’s a lot of dumb stuff out there.)

I like writing so I write. But maintaining a website and an email list and a server and other website-related things costs me more than I make from blogging every month. I am always in the red running this space. (There was a time when I made a good income from blogging; I stopped doing that a few years ago because it’s not how I want to spend my time. Maybe that will change in the future. Who knows.)

But I pay those costs, because I like to have a place to write. A place where I don’t have to play games or figure out the latest algorithm changes. A place where I’m in charge, said the Enneagram Eight. (And, yes, I understand Google and ranking and how I’m still a part of the game in some ways, but I don’t make choices to influence those algorithms. I’m purposefully ignoring them.)

No matter the plan or goal, it’s bad business sense to build a business solely on platforms you don’t own or control. When Facebook went down this fall, I loved it. Everything was so quiet. I felt a sense of relief.

That’s when I knew it was time to get rid of Facebook for good.

Full disclosure: I have the job I love—a writing career—because of Facebook. Facebook, in its heyday, shared my blog posts widely. I gained thousands of email subscribers from Facebook. The site visits from Facebook allowed me to work with companies that paid me well to share their products. I got to collaborate with businesses that boosted my resume and byline. Facebook gave me Instagram and Twitter followers. Facebook let a former work colleague post about a contract job she had that led me to the full-time writing job I’ve had for a few years now. A job I love and feel really lucky to get to do every day. I am grateful for Facebook. For what it used to be.

But I don’t need it anymore.

Will my blog visits go down? Absolutely.
Will this move cost me money? Yes.
Will it bother me? No.

I’ll just keep writing here when I feel like it. I’ll still keep posting on Instagram when I want to and keep ignoring it when I don’t. Someone asked if I felt like I was still part of the machine since Facebook owns Instagram and WhatsApp (two apps I still have and use). My answer is yes, but on my terms.

I still find joy and value in Instagram. I follow who I like, unfollow who I don’t, and spend intentional time there with boundaries. Facebook was not like that for me. I constantly had to hide friends’ posts because they were racist and horrible. I lost respect for people I used to look up to. I saw too much ugly from people I was trying to love there. Plus, it seemed to be more and more a place for people who didn’t understand social norms still applied on the internet. That we don’t gossip and share misinformation and things we wouldn’t say to people’s faces. Facebook has become a place where all the ugly parts of people’s hearts were proudly displayed, commonly in the name of Jesus. Facebook became a dark, dark place. In the name of Jesus. How ironic.

Also, I’m not sure we’re supposed to know the innermost thoughts of a 1000 people we casually know. That seems more harmful than helpful. We know our brains aren’t made for that much information or that many relationships, all of it becomes surface level and fake. Facebook is a mess. Its influence on our culture and relationships and hearts is destructive and concerning.

I don’t want to be a part of that mess anymore.

It’s only been 30 days, and I already feel lighter.

I was able to request a file with all my data from Facebook, so I didn’t lose anything I was worried about. All the pictures of baby Ellie Graham and our yearly Beech Grove pub crawls are safely saved on my Google Drive. I hit delete in the early morning hours of November 1st. Facebook was worried about my choice. It asked a few times if I was serious. And they kept my account available for 30 days just in case I changed my mind. (The only things I will miss are Facebook Marketplace and keeping up with community and school news for our small town. But really, I lived without those things before, and I’ll do it again.)

In the 30 days since I deleted Facebook, I’ve noticed I mostly only used it when I was bored or trying to distract myself from the work I was supposed to be doing. It was a crutch, a really convenient crutch. I’ve only thought about Facebook when I’ve been bored or wanted to escape something. And that realization means I made the right choice for me.

Today is the last day I’ll have access to my old account, all my “friends,” business pages, photos, and comments. I know Facebook hopes I’ll come back. They made (and continue to make) a fortune off their users. A “free” website isn’t ever really free, you’re paying with your information, your time, and your dependency.

I don’t want to pay them anymore.

What does this mean for my other social media apps? Right now, nothing. The cost of using Instagram still comes out in my favor. That might change one day, though. I’m not making any promises. If I’ve learned anything from reading all those old blog posts from years ago, it’s that we learn and change and grow and do better when we know better. And the next step for me was deleting Facebook.

I guess we’ll just have to see where all this growing takes me from here.

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