#weekendthoughts

Tumbler Tuesday: MOH Recovery Story. By: Layla Hamdan

Everyone loves a winner at the top. But the real magic happens long before the applause.

Molina Healthcare (MOH) just lived through a brutal earnings shock — EPS collapsed from an expected $3.90 down to $1.84. The market panicked. The price cratered. Fear took over.

But here’s what most people miss: Some of the strongest long-term moves begin in the places others walk away from.

Today, MOH trades at a P/E of just 9.58, while the S&P 500 sits near 29.21. Analysts see an upside towards $178–$206, and even Michael Burry calls it his quiet contrarian play.

This isn’t a hype story. It’s a recovery story. A reminder that value still exists in a world blinded by momentum and buzzwords.

The chart is forming a bullish channel. Volume is rising on the green days. Momentum whispers before the crowd starts shouting.

Maybe this is just a number to some. But to the patient investor? This is the pulse returning.

Slow comebacks. Quiet conviction. Long-term vision.

Not every rally is loud some begin with silence.

Today marks the fourth weekend of the month. Like most weekends, I started my morning with chores. My mother-in-law wanted to do some grocery shopping and, as usual, asked my husband to take her. I was, once again, the last person to be informed — if informed at all.

I didn’t go. I’ve learned to remove myself from situations that only leave me feeling invisible. Between the two of them, I become background noise, and that feeling of being ignored by my own husband is unbearable. Instead of getting into another argument about it, I stayed behind. This has become my solution — let them do as they please, and I’ll stay out of the way.

My husband seems to prioritize his mother over me, and while I understand the bond they share, I often feel like I’m just here to complete his marital status — a symbol, not a partner.

He left, and I remained at home with his father. Surprisingly, he asked me to make coffee with the beans he had just bought. It was a small gesture, but to me, it felt so warm — like a rare flicker of connection in this house.

Later, I walked into my husband’s office room and considered turning on the AC. But a voice inside me hesitated. Will they think I’m freeloading again? That’s what his mother thinks of me, after all. So I asked my father-in-law if it was okay.

He looked puzzled and said, “Why are you asking me? This is your home too. You don’t need permission.” I nearly cried. But instead, I smiled. In that moment, I was just grateful — that at least one person in this house sees me as a human being with a place in it.

When they returned from grocery shopping, I helped unload and unpack everything into the kitchen. My husband ran straight to his favorite spot — the bathroom — leaving me to continue helping, even watching his niece for two hours while his mother and sister went to the gym. I didn’t mind helping. But it stings when no one sees my effort. He plays his game all weekend while I fill in the gaps, entertain his family, and hold it all together. Do they even realize that?

Later in the evening, after dinner, everyone gathered in the living area. I went to the kitchen to tidy up a bit, then headed to my room to rest for a moment. But not long after, I heard the loud sounds of pots and pans — my mother-in-law had started her nightly spring-cleaning routine again.

I didn’t go out. Not out of disrespect, but because I was exhausted — physically and emotionally. I couldn't even rest without feeling anxious that I was somehow doing something wrong. She’s like a machine: cooking, hitting the gym, then scrubbing the kitchen spotless. And at the end of it, I always feel the burn of her frustration — like I’m her emotional punching bag.

I pray I don’t turn into that when I’m older. I just want peace. A life that’s calm and kind.

And then, as if the day hadn’t already drained me, I had another argument with my husband. I confronted him about his constant distractions — his gaming, his lack of presence, his disconnection from his work, his company, his goals. I asked where he saw himself in five years.

Instead of answering, he turned it on me — again. That’s what he always does. Twists my words, avoids accountability, and tries to guilt-trip me. “Look at yourself,” he said. “No job, no money.” Just like that — as if my value can be reduced to those two things.

I'm not writing this to shame him. I'm writing this with anger, frustration, and disappointment — because I don’t know how else to release it. I give, and give, and give. I bend myself over backward to make this marriage work, to support him, his family, this house.

Weekend Thoughts & Quote of the Day:

“I was taken by the power that savoring a simple cup of coffee can have to connect people and create community.” ~ Howard Schultz