I went to Trader Joe's for a bag of caramel corn and a bakery box of gluten-free fudge cupcakes with buttercream icing. My husband was out of town, and after tearfully tucking my four year old—warm and safe—into bed each night, I settled down into a long-gone version of myself, a person who finds peace of mind in a pile of sweets before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up with sickness in my stomach each morning, unsure whether it was from the sugar or a tummy ache from the lives lost and looming fear for what's becoming of our country.
But this is a new week, and what I know is this: When I mistreat my body, I lose access to the power I have to heap love, compassion, and strength on whatever little corner of the world I can reach. When my body is sick and weak, I have less to offer. So I'm doing my part.
From now on, whenever I can muster the presence of mind, this is my arsenal...
And for more reinforcements... #ThisIsMyArsenal
Division and hatred will not win as long as we have puppies and watermelon, wine and beautiful nights with people we love on our side!
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