Ask me anything   About me   

Hi, I'm Aimee! It's so good to meet you. I spend my time reading too many words, worrying over things that don't matter, running in the awkward hours, and spending too much of my time in the kitchen. Sometimes I'm forgetful and selfish and try too hard to make everyone around me happy. Here you'll find me trying to daily live in hope and grace.

Framed and ready for her wall. Can’t wait to surprise my sister and niece this weekend.  Figured with Rasputin out of town there’s a little mouse who needs a surprise visit from her Aunti.

Framed and ready for her wall. Can’t wait to surprise my sister and niece this weekend. Figured with Rasputin out of town there’s a little mouse who needs a surprise visit from her Aunti.

— 8 hours ago with 3 notes
Watercolor painting for my niece

Watercolor painting for my niece

— 9 hours ago with 3 notes

I really struggled with letting myself have a burger. It just feels…too..I don’t know. Forbidden? Off limits? Naughty? Indulgent? Like if I eat it I will be 250 lbs again. 

When, in reality, I ran this morning. I ran six miles. I didn’t get my protein shake. Breakfast was a handful of life cereal. Lunch was a serving of greek yogurt. My calories were low.A burger wasn’t going to break my calories. And even if it were, so what for one day?

I really dislike my mind. How it makes me feel guilty. How extreme it is. I have a problem with food.With feeling like I deserve certain things, with guilt, with fear. I might always struggle with food. But I don’t want to be afraid to eat. 

— 1 day ago with 4 notes

Why yes, that burger was worth the heartburn. So happy. 

The dogs got the fries.

— 1 day ago with 4 notes

This week is dragging. Not bad. Just hectic. Busy. I miss Rasputin. I am smothering the dogs. Having trouble sleeping. 

Might get a burger tonight. It just sounds right. 

— 1 day ago with 3 notes
I’d like for Rasputin to come home, already.

The dogs know he isn’t here. They surround me on either side and we lay here. It strange, isn’t it? How you can become so accustomed to the rhythm of another person’s breath. How it becomes such a crucial element in falling asleep. 

The basset hound is farting. 

— 3 days ago with 4 notes
I am moving in a forward motion

I needed that run. 

I needed that reminder. 

6 easy miles. AVG pace 10:27

— 3 days ago with 7 notes
I crossed the fine line between fun wine and sad wine

I cried. I am usually good at not thinking about things I’d prefer not to. Things that hurt. Too much wine, you know. I barely remember my biological father anymore. But I remember how he slowly stopped seeing me. He has a family now.  Kids. I have siblings out there. I wonder if they even know I exist. If they know my name. He used to call me Amineh. Did he choose them over me? He wasn’t ready to settle down when I came around. My mom eventually got back together with the only dad I truly know (siblings biological dad). Was it too hard for bio to stay involved? He went back to his home. He has this whole entire life. And I will probably never know a single thing about it. I feel like there is a culture out there that belongs to me but I don’t belong to it. I remember being five years old and my parents fighting. And dad not being around for days. My mom taking all of us in the minivan to see him at work. The massive balloons. The turned over table in the kitchen and the broken plates. I remember being on his shoulders and how he shone. How I got flowers on my 13th birthday, then watched him leave into the night from my bedroom window when I was up past my bedtime. Now I can’t stand to get flowers. They make me feel sick. I keep waiting for everyone to leave.I’d eat entire packages of oreos without thinking of it. Cartons of ice cream.How I have to live with the scars my angry fourteen year me gave myself because even then I couldn’t stand the skin I was in. I’d sneak out and wander for hours in the middle of the night. I’ve never been anywhere that felt like home. Like I belong. The scars faded enough now, but I can still trace them. I’ll always carry them with me.

Maybe one day I won’t feel so broken. Maybe one day those moments like earlier, where I find joy in myself, in my skin, wont be so fleeting. I’ll be home in my own self.

I will always keep striving. I am worth it. I will repeat that every single step I take. I am worth it. I will invest in myself.  

— 4 days ago with 7 notes
Was going to say “pics or it didn’t happen” or something like that - but this is too good a post, too important a moment. So hooray for a good body image day, I’m very happy for you. May you grow in comfort and confidence - one day at a time

haha :). It really is a daily learning. Some are better than others. I’d like to get to the point where I don’t need a buzz to like my figure though. That’s a comment regarding my state of mind, not my figure. I think acknowledging that it’s a struggle is half the battle. And confronting my insecurities and doubts head on helps. It’s never easy, but it is so worth it. I want to be healthy, in every possible way. That includes my self image of myself. 

— 4 days ago with 2 notes
Drink the wine, they said! It’ll be fun, they said!

Drink the wine, they said! It’ll be fun, they said!

— 4 days ago with 5 notes

I think at this point my plaan is that I will have drank enough tonight that I won’t even realize I am running for the first 45 minutes of tomorrow’s 11 miles. 

— 4 days ago with 3 notes
How I occupy myself after 2 glasses of wine when Rasputin is away

I took pictures of myself. The nekkid kind. Obviously they will be kept for my eyes only and treated with the utmost security. I didn’t hate what I saw. 

Slowly but surely learning to not hate my body, one day at a time. 

— 4 days ago with 9 notes

The house is so quiet without him :(

Maybe I will go wander around Target for awhile…

— 4 days ago with 1 note
I’ve been running my entire life


Last night, as the house slept

and I wandered sometime

after midnight, I found a snapshot

of you. It was buried half hazardously in a box

between my old Mary Janes and jump rope.

The edges smelled like rust and old cigarettes;

a scarred tear through the center distorted

your face back to the normal

I always knew. (In the corner,

nearly out of focus, your lip turns

a slight smile in the direction of

the ghost holding the camera.)

Behind you is the big maple tree I once fell from

and the house with all the mismatched paint.

(But you are standing in the doorway, neither

in nor out of that sock consuming, pants eating,

happy chasing typhoon.)

Just out of frame, behind glazed windows,

under torn sheets, and filed next to

the cobwebs and plaster cracks remains

the evidence exposing the manner

in which you daily performed your

penance of drowning yourself.

I tried to hide it and forget. But, tonight,

sometime after midnight, (while the house

slept) I found my way back to you and your misplaced

terms of endearments. In the bottom of my old snapshot

-tucked beneath a torn away corner – I am

standing next to you, wrapped up in your arms.

You wouldn’t be able to see it, but I’m frowning a little,

and I know it. It’s hard to say when it was taken:

(maybe just after I’d learned

you’d always be pulling yourself

towards something out of frame: I never

did know quite where to focus.)

— 5 days ago with 5 notes
#writing  #poetry  #spilled ink 
He left me lists throughout the house to find

He left me lists throughout the house to find

— 5 days ago with 4 notes