You Could Make This Place Beautiful

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

The cover of Maggie Smith’s memoir is stunning, and the words inside are no less striking. You Could Make This Place Beautiful is a memoir written by a poet, meaning readers will encounter sentences and images that you’ll need to read more than once, just to soak in the beauty (or “savor the flavor” as we say in our family). This is a memoir with an unconventional structure, a memoir that gives readers a glimpse inside to the end of Ms. Smith’s marriage and the beginning of what comes next.


From the book flap: “With a poet’s attention to language and a transformation of the genre, Smith reveals how, in the aftermath of loss, we can discover our power and make something new. Something beautiful.”

Here are a few of the passages, that for one reason or another, I marked with a highlighter and sticky note. Some of these passages are beautifully written. Some passages resonated with me, though on the surface it would seem Ms. Smith and I lead very different lives. But that’s one of the reasons I enjoy reading memoir — I learn about another person while also learning about myself, because it really is true — what we, as humans, have in common is so much more than our differences.

“How I picture it: We are all nesting dolls, carrying the earlier iterations of ourselves inside. We carry the past inside us. We take ourselves — all of our selves — wherever we go.
“Inside forty-something me is the woman I was in my thirties, the woman I was in my twenties, the teenager I was, the child I was.”

“Being married isn’t being two columns, standing so straight and tall on their own, they never touch. Being married is leaning and being caught, and catching the one who leans toward you.”

“For most of my life, I’d been a planner — driven and organized in my work; wedded to a schedule as a parent. But both the divorce and the pandemic meant a loss of control. So many of the things I had planned for were no longer possible, and I had to let go. I loosened my white-knuckled grip on my life and instead of feeling panicked, I found myself being more playful, more spontaneous, less tethered to order for order’s sake.”

“What I want to remember about that time — and what I want my kids to remember — is unselfconscious joy, tenderness, and togetherness. I want them to remember that their mother was happy, not that she had dinner on the table at 6:00 every night, or that bedtime was always at 8:00. I want to remember all the things we did, not the things we weren’t able to do.
“Sometimes yes looks like reminding yourself of what is still possible.”

“I’ve wondered if I can even call this book a memoir. It’s not something that happened in the past that I’m recalling for you. It’s not a recollection, a retrospective, a reminiscence. I’m still living through this story as I write it. I’m finding mine, and telling it, but all the while, the mine is changing.”

“The way you’ll be remembered is the way you’re living now, I tell myself. If you don’t like it, change it.”

“I’ve tried to love them as if there is a right way. No, I’ve loved them without having to try at all, because I’m their mother, and the love is not work. Parenting is work: the cooking of meals, the washing of clothes, the tending of wounds, the taming of cowlicks, the helping with homework, the driving to soccer, the packing of lunches, the finding of missing things (water bottle lids, baseballs, library books, mittens), the consoling to sleep. The love? It’s not work.”

“How I picture it: We are nesting dolls, carrying all of our earlier selves inside us. I feel so full of the life I had before — the life I have already lived — how is there room for anything new?
“We feel and feel, and live and live, but somehow we’re never full. This life is elastic, impossibly elastic. There is always room for more experience. Our lives expand to accommodate anything.”

“ ‘Wish for more pain,’ a friend’s therapist advised, if you want to change. If you’re in enough pain, you won’t be able to continue living the way you’ve been living; you’ll have to do something differently. But be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it — and then what? Then the pain is yours. The pain is yours and it will change you.”

“Now I see the title as a call to action — a promise I’d made not only to this book, and to you, but to myself. A promise I intend to keep.” 

“I keep thinking that this story, this life, could’ve happened another way. In some parallel universe, maybe it did, but here it happened like this — or, rather, it’s happening like this. How will it end? I don’t know. Every ending is one of many possibilities, one of many unknowns. Every ending is secret until it happens.”

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

Hoping For a Change in the Program

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Last week, I saw my rheumatologist for my three-month check-in appointment. 

You’d think by now that I wouldn’t be surprised or disappointed by the way these appointments tend to go. 

But I am.

I’m still holding out hope that one day, at one appointment, a doctor will look me in the eyes and recognize my daily experience and my effort, as I navigate my life with a chronic illness causing chronic pain. 

This fantasy doctor will listen to me, really listen, when I explain that my days are challenging. That my family has noticed changes in me, and the truth is, my physical capabilities are not what they were, even just a couple of years ago. This doctor will acknowledge my tears as I explain how everyday tasks, like getting in and out of the car or going grocery shopping, are no longer things I can easily do.  

This fantasy doctor will look at me and say:

“That sounds really hard.”

“I realize it’s frustrating, not knowing how you’ll feel when you wake up each morning.”

“I know you’re trying to be the best version of yourself for your family.”

“Good for you for keeping up with your physical therapy exercises at home.”

“It’s fantastic that you continue to move your body and go on your daily walks.”

“I can see you’re trying to implement small changes. That’s great.”

But that’s not what happened at last week’s appointment. Instead I sat on the exam table where my doctor proceeded to move and bend my leg in ways it doesn’t usually move or bend. 

I left the office in more pain than I had when I arrived. 

I dealt with high levels of pain for the next two days. 

And in three months, I get to do it all over again.

The Kiss Countdown

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Has this ever happened to you? 

You find out about a new book. Maybe you saw it advertised in a magazine or included in an email from Bookshop.org. You do the thing we’re not “supposed” to do and make a judgment call based on the cover and/or title and/or author. You add the book to your ever-growing, want-to-read list on Goodreads. You’re on a a bookstore date with one of your closest friends, you see the book on the shelf, and decide to purchase it, because it seems wrong to go into an independent bookstore and not buy at least one book. But then the book sits on your shelf for a bit, because you have such high hopes for the book, you don’t want to be disappointed. You want the book to be everything you’re hoping for. 

Or is that just me?

That was the situation for me and The Kiss Countdown, a debut romance written by Etta Easton. 

The main reason I was so excited by this book? Because it features an astronaut. 

And friends, if you didn’t know, for most of my childhood (pretty much all the years between fourth grade and eleventh grade), I dreamed of becoming a United States astronaut. 

The Kiss Countdown was so enjoyable. So good, in fact, that after I finished reading it, I immediately went online to learn more about the author. And I was super excited to learn that Ms. Easton’s second contemporary romance, The Love Simulation, will be published on March 4th, 2025. 

The chemistry and the romance between Amerie and our astronaut, Vincent, was a delight to read. At the same time, this book is more than the romantic story of a woman and a man. The book also deals with the power of female friendships, of adult children worrying about their aging parents especially when one parent has a serious chronic illness, and it explores the struggles involved with entrepreneurship.  

As a result, for this week’s blog, I’m sharing some of my non-romance favorite parts:

“Gina runs her thumb over my forehead to smooth out the frown. ‘Nuh-uh, none of that. How can you say all those sweet things about me but then deny what’s plain to see about yourself? You are a diamond; you’ve just forgotten how bright you can shine. Don’t worry, we’ll get you there.’ ”  (This exchange is between our main character, Amerie, and her best friend, Gina.)

“Gina’s words pierce through me. Who is the old Amerie? It’s like I’ve been in survival mode for so long. I don’t remember what anything else feels like. Sure, I’m good at putting on a convincing genial face, but most days are still a struggle.”

“ ‘Amerie, I’d watch you sit across the room like you were in a trance, only to go to the restroom and come out with bloodshot eyes from crying behind closed doors. I realized that we never taught you it’s okay to be vulnerable. You don’t have to be strong for me. You don’t have to hold in the fear that you’ll lose me so tightly that it suffocates you.’ ” (This is Amerie’s mom speaking to her.) 

“ ‘How do you and Daddy do it?’ I ask.
“ ‘Do what?’
“ ‘Live and love so freely, knowing your time together may be limited.’ I hate to acknowledge out loud the reality of my mom’s health, but I have to know.
“ ‘When it comes down to it, your dad taught me that our love has to be bigger than our fears.’ She smiles like a woman waking up on her wedding day. ‘I never thought I’d get married and have a beautiful family, but your dad is stubborn. He wouldn’t let me push him away, and here we are thirty years later. And make no mistake, as hard as some of them have been, they’ve all been good. Tomorrow isn’t promised for any of us, Amerie. My health just serves as a daily reminder.’ “

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.


Read 25 in 2025

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Confession: I didn’t meet my goal for the 2024 Goodreads Reading Challenge.

This isn’t the first time I didn’t complete the annual challenge. But this was the first time I wasn’t even close to meeting my goal. (I read 29 books, and had hoped to read 45.)

Here are some things you should know about my 2024:

1.  I did read, but not as much and not as fast as I have in previous years. Plus, I also read magazines, including my subscriptions to Writer’s Digest Magazine and Poets and Writers Magazine, and magazines are not tracked on Goodreads. 

2.  I also spent potential reading time attending webinars, watching author talks on YouTube, and listening to podcasts. 

3.  Physically, 2024 was among my worst years — in terms of high levels of fatigue and pain, and low levels of restorative sleep and energy. Just the other day, my husband reminded me that I used to have “good days.” Neither one of us can remember the last time I told him I was having a good day (which translates into a low-pain day). Actually, I don’t know if there were any good days in 2024. 

4.  I short-changed myself. On busy days, the first things I stopped doing were the things I most like to do, such as sitting on my patio reading and completing my daily five-minute writing exercises.

So, after recovering from the horrendous flu, I made a few changes for 2025.

I set a much lower number (24) as my Goodreads Reading Challenge goal. Because it’s not the number of books that matters. It’s the books. It’s reading what I want to read when I want to read it. It’s spending money on books without feeling guilty, since I have more than enough to-be-read books at home. But I continue buying books, knowing my purchases help authors and bookstores. 

Reading goes hand-in-hand with writing, and I’m hopeful that if I start increasing the time I spend doing one of those activities, time spent on the other activity will automatically increase as well. 

Plus, I discovered the “Read 25 in ’25” challenge. Gretchen Rubin and Bookshop.org have partnered to support this group challenge to read twenty-five minutes a day in 2025. (You can read more about the #25in25 challenge by clicking here.)

Like I did with my Spoonie NaNoWriMo, I printed out a January calendar and am placing a sticker each day I read twenty-five minutes. I didn’t begin this challenge until last week, Monday, January 6th. You’ll notice, I fell short of the twenty-five minutes on my first day as well as last Thursday. (You can click here to read about my Spoonie NaNoWriMo experience.)

And that’s okay. 

What’s important is acknowledging that I want to read twenty-five minutes each day. That I am starting this new year aware of the importance of making the effort to regularly and consistently do something I enjoy.

How about you, dear readers? Anyone else participating in the #25in25 challenge? Let me know in the comments; I’d love to cheer you on, and learn about the books you’re reading!

Please note: I am including a link to buy the books I have mentioned on this blog. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.


The Rom-Commers

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I’m a Katherine Center fan.

From her bio, on the back flap of her most recent novel, The Rom-Commers:  “Katherine writes ‘deep rom-coms’ — laugh-and-cry books about how life knocks us down, and how we get back up.”

The Rom-Commers is certainly a “deep rom-com.” I would describe it as a romantic-comedy-plus; it’s a story that makes you smile and bite your lip and think tenderly of your parents and your favorite romantic comedy movies. And, it was a pure delight. 

And, as a bonus, the book is pretty, “featuring beautiful spray-painted edges with vibrant designed endpapers.” 

Here are a few of my favorite lines:

“You had to maximize joy when it fluttered into your life. You had to honor it. And savor it.”

“A rom-com should give you a swoony, hopeful, delicious, rising feeling of anticipation as you look forward to the moment when the two leads, who are clearly mad for each other, finally overcome all their obstacles, both internal and external, and get together.”

“ ‘A great rom-com,’ I said, ‘is just like sex. If you’re surprised by the ending, somebody wasn’t doing their job. We all know where it’s headed. The fun is how we get there.’ ”

“I had a theory that we gravitate toward the stories we need in life. Whatever we’re longing for — adventure, excitement, emotion, connection — we turn to stories that help us find it. Whatever questions we’re struggling with — sometimes questions so deep, we don’t even really know we’re asking them — we look for answers in stories.”

“Donna Cole, whose most famous wise quote — ‘The most vital thing you can learn to do is tell your own story’ — was the centerpiece of my vision board back home.”  (What a phenomenal quote!)

“There’s something about a kiss that brings all the opposites together. The wanting and the getting. The longing and the having. All those cacophonous emotions that usually collide against one another teaming up at last into a rare and exquisite harmony.”

“The kiss lit a warmth that spread though me like honey, softening everything tense, and soothing everything hurt, and enveloping everything lonely.”

“ ‘Whatever story you tell yourself about your life, that’s the one that’ll be true.’
“I lifted my head to give that idea my full attention.
“My dad went on, ‘So if I say, ‘This terrible thing happened, and it ruined my life’ — then that’s true. But if I say, ‘This terrible thing happened, but, as crazy as it sounds, it made me better,’ then that’s what’s true.’ “

“Humanity at its worst is an easy story to tell — but it’s not the only story. Because the more we can imagine our better selves, the more we can become them.”  

“ All I remember for certain was the feeling of my heart unfolding to its full wingspan in my chest, like a bird that had decided to stretch out wide at last and absolutely soar.
“Was this a happy ending?
“Of course. And also only a beginning. In the way that beginnings and endings are always kind of the same thing.
“I had no idea where we’d go from here, or how we’d manage it all, or where the future would take us. But it was okay. We don’t get to know the whole story all at once. And where we’re headed matters so much less than how we get there.”

“But what does okay even mean? Life is always full of worries and struggles, losses and disappointments, late-night googling of bizarre symptoms — all tumbling endlessly over one another like clothes in the dryer. It’s not like any of us ever gets to a place where we’ve solved everything forever and we never have another problem.
“That’s not how life works.
“But that’s not what a happily ever after is, anyway.
“Poor happy endings. They’re so aggressively misunderstood. We act like ‘and they lived happily ever after’ is trying to con us into thinking that nothing bad ever happened to anyone ever again.
“But that’s never the way I read those words. I read them as ‘and they built a life together, and looked after each other, and made the absolute best of their lives.’ 
“That’s possible, right?
“That’s not ridiculous.
“Tragedy is a given. There is no version of human life that doesn’t involve reams of it.
“The question is what we do in the face of it all.”

“ ‘Because love is something you can learn. Love is something you can practice. It’s something you can choose to get good at. And here’s how you do it.’ He let go of his walker to signal he meant business: ‘Appreciate your person.’ ”

“He went on: ‘Choose a good, imperfect person who leaves the cap off the toothpaste, and puts the toilet paper roll on upside down, and loads the dishwasher like a ferret on steroids — and then appreciate the hell out of that person. Train yourself to see their best, most delightful, most charming qualities. Focus on everything they’re getting right. Be grateful — all the time — and laugh the rest off.’ “

“Tragedy really is a given.
“There are endless human stories, but they all end the same way.
“So it can’t be where you’re going that matters. It has to be how you get there.
“That’s what I’ve decided.
“It’s all about the details you notice. And the joys you savor. And the hope you refuse to give up on.
“It’s all about writing the very best story of your life.
“Not just how you live it — but how you choose to tell it.”

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

Happy New Year, Friends!

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

My Dear Readers,

This is not the post I thought I would write for my first blog post of 2025. 

I imagined I would write something reflective about last year, and something hopeful and promising for the new year.

Instead, I’m going to keep it short and sweet and celebrate the fact there is a blog post today. I wasn’t sure I would get this post written and published, which would have meant that for the first time in more than a decade, I would have missed writing a weekly blog post. 

Thankfully that didn’t happen.

Friends, since Friday, December 27th, I have been in bed, sick with a nasty flu (though we all got flu shots back in September). As my doctor said, having an autoimmune disease makes other health issues — including this “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad” flu — more complicated, and it affects my body somewhat differently. 

The good news is I’m slowly getting better.

So as we turn the calendar on a new year, I wish for you some of the simple pleasures that have meant so much to me these last several days — a comfortable bed, a warm home, support and love from those closest to you, and the hope that tomorrow will be even better.

Happy New Year, friends!

I Earned My Stripes

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
Image credit: @HerStryblg

“Once, when my now sixteen-year-old son was a little guy and in a Target dressing room with me, he asked about the ‘stripes’ he saw on the sides of my stomach. I told my son I had those stretch marks because my body had stretched and grown so he could stretch and grow inside of me, before he was ready to be born. I liked his word — stripes. Much better than “stretch marks” which sounds like something a favorite sweater might have after many years of wear and wash. Even now, all these years later, I smile when thinking of my son’s innocent comment — stripes. Something I had earned. Like badges of honor.”

I would imagine most women have a story about their stomachs. Or breasts. Or bottoms. Or all of the above. 

HerStry has published mine, and the paragraph above is an excerpt from that personal essay. You can click here to read my personal essay, “I Earned My Stripes,” in its entirety.

And to my dear readers, I’m wishing you a happy, merry, joyful holiday season! And, if you’re not a holiday-season-celebrator, I’m wishing you a happy, merry, joyful Wednesday!


I Gave Myself a Time-Out

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Why am I smiling? Because I'm proud of myself. Giving myself a break was, is, a big deal.

For some reason, this week’s blog post felt hard to write. I think it’s because there’s so much going on — within our home, within our family, within our world. And sometimes, it just feels like a lot. Like too much, actually. Like I really wouldn’t mind if we could somehow press pause on the day, and I could just have a day to try and catch up. Catch up on emails and podcasts and magazines. Catch up on sleep and watching laugh-out-loud movies. 

Of course, life doesn’t work that way. 

But last week, I did do something that was my version of a brief pause. A kind of time-out.

Last Wednesday morning, I went to physical therapy. The session went well, and my physical therapist was pleased with my progress. When it comes to walking on the treadmill, both my speed and my stamina have increased over the months we’ve worked together. Those improvements don’t necessarily transfer into less pain; however, those improvements do mean my legs, especially my left leg, is “strong enough.” Because the week before physical therapy, while I went for one of my neighborhood walks before my son’s dismissal from school, I had an “incident.” I was in the middle of walking around the block, when a sudden pain shot through my left leg. It was the type of pain that made me stop and look around, searching for something I could lean on. The type of pain that brought tears to my eyes. I paused for a couple of minutes, but then what else could I do but continue walking? I had to get back to the car. And I did. (I also had really bad pain the rest of the day.) It was super scary, honestly. When I told my physical therapist what had happened, he of course had no magic solutions to offer. But he did tell me that my body is strong; I’ve been doing the work. And even though the pain felt awful, even though I limped the rest of the walk back to the car, I got to where I needed to be. My body, my legs, are strong enough to do what I need them to do.

But, my body is also tired. And sensitive. And worn-out. 

So Wednesday afternoon, after physical therapy, I did something I don’t usually do. I didn’t come right home so I could get back to work on getting things done on my to-do list. I had a post to work on for MomsLA.com, greeting cards to write out, gifts to wrap, bills to pay.

But instead of coming home, I took myself to our neighborhood cafe. I ordered a cafe mocha, sat at a table that was neither in the shade nor in the sun, and I read two chapters of my novel. (By the way, reading Katherine Center’s The Rom-Commers and really enjoying it!)

It might not seem like a lot to some people, but for me it was. It was me taking time for myself. Doing something because I wanted to do it. Not because I felt I should. Or because it had to get done. But because I wanted to do something purely for the pleasure it brought me. 

And I’m so glad I did!

How about you, dear readers? What was something you did recently just for you? Feel free to share in the comments. 

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

An Update on My Memoir

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I wanted to use this week’s blog post to give you all an update on my memoir.

I have been querying literary agents on-and-off since March. Some agents respond to your query with either a yes or no, while other agents will only respond if they are interested in reading more from you. I have received some form rejections as well as some very nice, encouraging rejections; however, no literary agent has said yes, or even a variation of yes — as in, I’d like to read more before making up my mind. 

Which means I now go to plan B — researching smaller publishing houses. These independent presses do not require an author to be represented by a literary agent and accept submissions from the writers themselves.

The bottom line is — I’m not giving up. I’m not stopping. I’m just changing course, because I truly believe in my book and I want to get my book into the hands of readers. 

You may remember my October post when I described my memoir and explained that it’s divided into three parts. (If you missed the post, click here to read it.)

The first piece in the first section is a Letter to the Reader. The letter explains why I eventually felt compelled to write my memoir. For several years I refused to write about my “medical condition.” Notice I used the word condition and not illness or disease. I didn’t think my autoimmune disease was important enough to write about. Surely other people dealt with more life-altering, more painful, more scary health issues. And while that’s definitely true, it doesn’t mean my experiences are any less important or any less book-worthy. 

So this week, I’d like to share a portion of my Letter to the Reader with you. You all are on this journey with me, and knowing you’re here, reading my work week after week, liking, commenting, sending me emails, supporting me is something I don’t take for granted. I appreciate you all. I hope you know that. 

From my Letter to the Reader:

“This book is deeply personal to me. It has lived in my head and my heart for years. I have created it with love and respect, for me — and for you. 
“I was thirty-four years old, a wife, a mother, a daughter, and a teacher, when I became ill. I didn’t comprehend what a rare, autoimmune disease diagnosis would mean. I didn’t realize my life would forever be changed.”

“The book you are reading is the book I wish had been available to me. It is the book I needed to read. 
“It is my hope that readers who don’t live with a chronic illness will finish this book with a different perspective, an adjusted way of looking at people. A bit more patience and understanding for others. A realization that you simply can’t know someone’s hurts just by looking at them.
“And for my readers who live with chronic illness and/or chronic pain and/or invisible disabilities, I sincerely hope that you read this book and feel a connection with my words. I hope, in these pages, you see a part of yourself, to the point where you can show an essay to a loved one and say, ‘Here, please read this. This is what I mean. This is how it feels.’ I hope, too, that reading this book brings you comfort in knowing you’re not alone. Many of us feel so desperately isolated with our medical struggles. It is an unbelievable comfort to find someone who ‘gets it.’ 
“I get it.”

My 2nd Spoonie NaNoWriMo

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Last year, I wrote about my experience completing a very personalized Spoonie NaNoWriMo. (You can read the post by clicking here.)

Here I must pause to give credit to my friend, Sandra Postma. It was because of Sandra’s Instagram posts that I created my own version of NaNoWriMo last year. I never would have done it without Sandra’s encouragement and her advice that as spoonies we needed to create our own personal versions of NaNoWriMo that work for us.   

So this year, when October wrapped up and we made it through a relatively quiet Halloween (only one trick-or-treater this year), I knew I wanted to do my Spoonie NaNoWriMo this year, too. 

I followed the same format as last year. 

I completed a five-minute writing exercise each day. Sometimes that meant I used the time to generate ideas for an upcoming submissions call. Other days it meant I used a writing prompt to jumpstart my writing. And other days I used my five minutes of writing time like a journal, to record what I was thinking and/or doing that day. 

And maybe, even more importantly, was the self-praise component. I took a few minutes each day to reflect on my physical strength and all my body continues to do, even though my levels of pain and fatigue are higher than last year. 

But, if you look closely at the photo of my sticker-decorated November calendar, you’ll notice I missed one day — Thursday, November 28th. Thanksgiving.

I didn’t notice my mistake until the following day, and I must admit, I was disappointed and upset with myself for “messing up.” But it was done. I could have cheated, I guess, and done an extra 5-minutes of writing on Friday, November 29th and written down something my body had done on Thanksgiving Day. Then I could have placed a sticker in that empty calendar box. 

But that wouldn’t have been right. The truth was, in addition to being busy cooking with my family, Thanksgiving was a day of complicated emotions. And painful knees. And somehow I had gotten distracted and forgotten to do my NaNoWriMo activities. 

  And that’s okay. Because I did my best. 

And when I read over the self-praise log I kept throughout the month, there’s no denying I’m doing a lot and trying my best. Every single day.