So today I woke up feeling like yesterday had run me over with a steamroller and then reversed to finish the job. Raw doesn’t even begin to cover it. There’s this lingering heaviness, like my soul got put through the wringer, and now it’s just laying there, soggy and unamused. Burnout has its claws in me, and all I want to do is curl up in the safety of someone’s arms. Someone specific? Maybe. Maybe not. Perhaps I’ve met them; perhaps they’re still out there, blissfully unaware of my existence and my penchant for dramatic inner monologues. Who’s to say? Life’s weird like that.

But here’s something: since yesterday, my pets have been acting like I’m holding a secret “let’s smother the human with love” contest. I’ve got all three of them—count them, three—on full-time emotional support duty, tails and whiskers at the ready. They’re so dedicated, they’ve even followed me into the bathroom. I kid you not, I had an audience while brushing my teeth this morning. Privacy? Forget it. Apparently, I belong to them now. I suspect the service dog is the ring leader today.

Typing this is a mission because every time I try, someone decides it’s cuddle o’clock. My cat seems to think my keyboard is the perfect spot for a nap, and my dog has taken to nudging my arm just as I find my rhythm. Not to be outdone, the third one—let’s call them “The Opportunist”—has decided that my lap is prime real estate. Let me tell you, trying to type with a cat sprawled across your arms and a dog giving you puppy-dog eyes could be an Olympic event. And yet, despite the chaos, it’s hard to be mad at them. There’s something about the pure, unfiltered love of animals that just melts you. They don’t care if you’re a mess. They don’t care if your mascara’s smudged from an ugly cry or if you’re wearing yesterday’s sweatpants, or in my case a t-shirt nightie. They’re there, offering snuggles and unconditional affection, even when you’re at your absolute lowest.

Yesterday was one of those days where the tears just wouldn’t stop. It was like my head was screaming, my heart was breaking, and the world was spinning all at once. Honestly, it was a spectacle—an emotional circus with me as the reluctant ringleader. But here’s the thing: I’ve learned (mostly the hard way and the odd refresher every so often) that you can’t fight these moments. You can’t shove the feelings back into some metaphorical box and hope they stay there. Spoiler alert: they won’t. They’ll come back with reinforcements, and it’ll be ten times worse. So I’ve made peace with letting them run their course. Feel it all, ugly cries and all. It’s not glamorous, but it’s necessary.

Writing helps. This space—this blank page—it’s my refuge. It’s where I can be raw and vulnerable, where I can let the mask slip and just be. Some days, that’s all you need. A space to pour your heart out, to unravel the tangled mess in your head. And hey, who knows? Maybe someone out there will read this and feel a little less alone. Maybe that someone special will stumble across these words, and we’ll connect in some serendipitous, movie-montage kind of way. A girl can dream, right? Until then, I’ll keep writing, keep navigating this beautiful, chaotic mess of a life, and keep dodging the “helpful” paws that insist on contributing to my keyboard symphony.

Speaking of chaos, I’ve come to embrace it. Life is messy—gloriously, unpredictably messy—and I’ve stopped trying to tame it. Turns out, when you stop resisting the chaos and lean into it, things get a little easier. Not easy, mind you. Just… less soul-crushing well in length of time anyway of feeling that way. It’s funny, though, how once you start embracing the madness, you notice other people doing it too. Like there’s some unspoken universal truth that we’re all just figuring out as we go along. Of course, I had to figure this out the hard way. Typical, right?

Some days, there’s a clear trigger for the emotional tidal wave—something someone said, a memory, a song. Other days, it’s like the feelings just decide, “Hey, today seems like a good day to ruin!” and bam, there they are, uninvited and unapologetic. Either way, it’s exhausting. It’s the kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones, making you want to shut the world out and crawl under a blanket. Longing to be found and just held, no words needed just acceptance. But even on those days, I’m grateful. Grateful for the chaos, for the love of my furry companions, for the ability to write and let it all out.

Accepting yourself—really, truly accepting yourself—means embracing the ugly, the messy, the chaotic. It’s not easy. It’s not Instagram-pretty. But it’s real, and it’s freeing. And on days like today, when the weight of it all feels like too much, I remind myself that this is okay. It’s okay to feel it all, to let the emotions ride free, to break down. It’s okay to not be okay.

And so, here I am, typing away, letting the words pour out while a cat snores softly on my lap, a dog rests its head on my foot, and The Opportunist circles me like a shark sensing vulnerability. Life is chaotic, messy, and unpredictable. But it’s also full of moments like this—moments of love, of connection, of raw, unfiltered humanity. And for that, I’m thankful. Even if I do have to hit the backspace button every five seconds because someone’s paw decided to contribute to the narrative. Typical.

To be fair though, being in that mood yesterday actually created a chance for me to start to get to know someone with similar interests to me. Sometimes in the darkest times there is a light hidden if you care to look for it. What I would love to know is what do you do when you have those bad days?