Hey friends.
It’s been… a while.
Or, more accurately, 200,000 minutes. Who’s counting? Time is fake, anyway.
But hi. I’ve missed you.
If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been, thank you. Really. Second, buckle up, because the past year has been a chaotic mix of courtroom drama, emotional whiplash, survival-mode parenting, zero creative energy, and somehow learning how to professionally frame art. I know. Wild.
So grab a drink, cozy up—this is your official life update. It’s part real talk, part nervous laughter, and part emotional exhale. Let’s catch up.
Divorce Trial: DIY Lawyer Edition
So… I went through a divorce.
Not the sign-some-papers-and-move-on kind.
Nope. A four-day trial. In an actual courtroom. With evidence. Exhibits. And me sitting there like a guest star on Law & Order: Exhausted Victims Unit.
I’m a full-time single mom. And my ex didn’t contribute to legal fees. So, guess who had to become her own legal team?
Yup. Me.
I was a full-blown DIY divorce attorney. Google was my paralegal. My kitchen table? My law office. “How to file a motion in family court” or "how to hand in an exhibit" were basically in my top searches for three months straight.
Between bedtime routines and packing school lunches, I was printing court exhibits, drafting legal responses, and staring at deadlines with a panicked glaze in my eyes. Some nights, I just sat on the floor surrounded by sticky notes and binders, wondering, “Is this real life?”
Spoiler alert: it was.
And the kicker?
It’s still not over. Because apparently, for some people, court orders are more like… gentle suggestions.
Single Mom Survival Mode
All of this was happening while I was parenting alone.
Every meltdown, every school drop-off, every forgotten lunchbox, every emotional moment… landed on me.
There were days I was this close to short-circuiting. One more spill, one more bad-news email, and I would’ve spontaneously combusted.
But here’s the truth about solo parenting during a storm:
You find strength you didn’t know you had.
Even when you're crying. Even when you're shaking. You show up.
Was I always patient? Absolutely not.
Was I trying my best with what I had? Every single day.
Creativity on Ice
Somewhere in all this, I lost my creative spark.
I didn’t want to make content. I didn’t even want to be perceived. I’d scroll through half-finished drafts and ideas and just… shut the app. Creating felt impossible when I could barely keep myself upright.
But I missed it.
The process, the stories, this community - it’s part of who I am. And I wanted her back.
DIY Projects: Reno Therapy (Sort Of)
DIY and home reno have always been my therapy. But during all the chaos? I couldn’t even look at a paintbrush. I walked past half-painted walls, unfinished trim, and a staircase that looked like it belonged in a “before” shot of a sad HGTV episode.
It took me nearly a year to pick things back up.
One project at a time. On days when I had even the smallest flicker of mental space.
The dining room. The living room. The playroom. That cursed staircase. One by one, they came back to life. Slowly. With curse words, tears. With moments of “why am I even doing this?”
But working on those spaces, rebuilding something with my own hands, helped me remember who I am. Even if the camera wasn’t rolling. Even if no one saw it but me.
New Job, New Skills, New Energy
Because apparently I wasn’t doing enough—I also got a job.
I started working at a local art gallery and custom framing shop.
And y’all—I learned how to make actual, professional frames. Miters. Clamps. Tools that scream at you. The whole deal.
It’s surprisingly soothing. Something is healing about taking raw materials and turning them into something beautiful.
Being around art again? Fed parts of me that were starving.
Reminded me that even when things feel fragile, they can still be framed—still be made whole.
Rebuilding (My House, My Heart, My Routine)
These days, I’m rebuilding.
Not just my house. Not just my schedule.
Me.
I’ve started meditating again. Journaling. (Here is my favorite journaling notebook)
Reading before bed instead of doomscrolling until my eyeballs blur.
I’ve mostly fixed my sleep schedule.
I drink water now. (Okay, more water. Still forget sometimes.)
I even carved out time for a sound healing session—the first in years. It took me straight back to Nepal, where I first discovered sound healing and felt peace in my body for the first time in forever.
That’s a story for another day. (Let me know if you want it—it's a good one.)
What’s Next?
So now?
Now I’m creating again. Not perfectly. Not consistently. But with love.
Some days it’s a project or just a thought I need to share.
Some days, it’s me sitting in sweats with three-day-old hair saying, “Hey… I’m still here.”
There’s still legal stuff ahead. Still late nights and hard moments.
Still healing to do.
But I’m hopeful.
Because if I made it through all that—the trial, the grief, the chaos—then I can keep going. And if you’re in your own storm right now? So can you.
If You’re Still Reading…
Thank you.
Thank you for being here.
For showing up—for me, for yourself, for the messy process of rebuilding.
If you’re in your own version of survival mode, I see you.
If all you did today was eat something and text someone back? You’re doing great. Truly.
More is coming.
Maybe a project. Perhaps a story. Maybe just another cozy ramble from your girl with the messy hair and unfinished green tea.
Either way—I’ll be here.
Rebuilding. Creating. Breathing.
Take care of yourself.
Drink water. Hug your people. Rest when you can.
See you soon.
xoxo,
April
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