Some days I feel unseen,

Some days I feel unheard and unsafe,

Some days I struggle to get through the day without loosing my mind to my thoughts

There is still time to participate in our Calender Raffle. Go to our website Home Page and use the donate button to purchase as many calendars as you like, and remember you can win every single day! Even if you win a prize your name goes right back into the pool.

I never thought I’d be here.In the middle of a divorce that isn’t moving forward but still feels like it’s ripping me apart. No money to pay for it. No desire to see it go through. Sleeping on a couch at my daughter’s house. Watching my mortgage climb higher than I can afford, while I carry all the weight alone. I break down crying often. I feel like I’ve been thrown away, discarded like trash…

Two boys walk opposite directions across a damp stone bridge, their reflections whispering more than they do. One wears modern trainers and a hoodie, fingers curled near his mouth. The other—cap, wool socks, something borrowed from a hundred years ago—stares at the ground like he's memorizing the sadness.

Behind them, the graffiti reads like a spell you’re only allowed to hear when you're small enough to need it:

“YOU ARE NOT THE FIRST BOY TO FEEL THIS WAY.”

And maybe that’s the whole weather today—soft rain, borrowed clothes, the ache of being not-first and still hurting like you invented the feeling.

It feels like a message from older ghosts, written for future selves. Boys that tried silence and boys that didn’t, boys that time-travel emotionally through one another. Maybe they’ll never meet. Maybe they already have.

Sometimes a puddle holds more memory than the sky.

Misty Bridge Apple Loaf

Ingredients:

2 tart apples, grated

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/3 cup softened butter

1 tsp cinnamon

2 eggs

1 tsp vanilla

1 1/2 cups flour

1 tsp baking soda

Pinch of salt

Optional: walnuts or drizzle of honey

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 175°C (350°F). Grease a loaf pan.

Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs, vanilla, then stir in grated apple.

Mix dry ingredients separately, then combine.

Pour into pan, bake for 40–50 mins.

I hate him.

God, it feels so good to say that without swallowing it back.

He makes jokes about me leaving, like he wants me to, but won’t admit it because saying it would mean owning it.

And I’m tired of it all!

Of pretending he’s a good dad. Of holding this house together alone. Of biting my tongue to keep the peace. Of having to explain basic kindness to a grown man.

I don’t even want him to touch me anymore. That’s not a marriage. That’s a sentence I didn’t agree to serve. I know I’m not the only one who feels like this.I know there are women lying in bed at night wondering how the hell they ended up here.

This space is mine, actually ours now.Where we don’t have to smile and pretend.Because nothing about this is fine.