This Body is Bullshit

I received this little graphic about the evolution of the blog:

2021–2023 Molly: “How do I survive this?”
2024 Molly: “Why is this happening?”
2025 Molly: “How much more can one person carry?”
2026 Molly: “How do I build a life inside all of this?”

Yeah. That’s it. I didn’t plan any of that — I just kept showing up and that counts as evolving.

Natalie came to town. Her mom Donna took us to a drag brunch. Donna got brought up on stage and danced around the room collecting tips for charity. We laughed and cheered and were completely ridiculous and I enjoyed every single second of it. Happy Pride!

I also did a nursing home tour last week.

I know. The whiplash is very my life.

The tour was depressing. I cannot imagine putting my dad in one. I also don’t have to worry about it because they are so unaffordable it’s almost funny.

Sunday we hosted Father’s Day and Grace’s birthday together. Family from four different branches of the family tree, plus Drew — who IS immediate family — and Michael, the caregiver who helps both Drew and my dad. It was really nice to have Matt, my dad, and Ken all in the same space. Three men who have shown up for Grace and me in completely different ways. All of them matter.

And Grace… She turned 27.

I don’t know why 27 has wrecked me the way it has. I used to laugh at Donna. She cried at every single milestone her kids hit. Birthdays. First day of school. Last day of school. All of it. I thought she was so extra about it. And now here I am completely undone by a birthday, and maybe this is exactly what she felt every time. Maybe it just took me 27 years to get there. Boy, does she have a long way to go!

I don’t know if it’s the weight of looking back at 27 years or the fear of not knowing what’s coming or this quiet terrifying thought of — is this it? Am I done being her mom? I know I’ll always be her mom. But it’s different now. She doesn’t need me the same way. She has built this whole life. Remarkable, independent, kind, out there every day trying to make the world better — and I am so proud I could burst.

And I miss her being small.

Both those things. My baby is 27. I don’t know where the time went.

I called hospice today and scheduled an evaluation for my dad.

I want to say this clearly because I know what that word sounds like: he is not dying. Not soon anyway. I think. But hospice is so much more than end of life now — it’s support, it’s resources, it’s help navigating something that has no manual. We need help. A lot of it.

It was still a hard call to make.

And then there’s Matt. I know, he’s pretty perfect. BUT

I’m disappointed in him right now in a way that feels big. I feel betrayed. I don’t fully know how to process it yet because right now I am so mad and hurt that I feel vengeful and I know myself well enough to know that vengeful Molly making decisions is not going to end well for either of us.

So I’m putting it here. Sitting with it. Trying to get to the other side of the feeling before I do anything with it.

That’s growth I think. Angry, hurt, not-at-all-okay growth. But growth.

2026 Molly: “How do I build a life inside all of this?”

One day at a time. One hard phone call at a time. One birthday, one drag brunch, one nursing home tour, one moment of heartbreak at a time.

Natalie is sleeping over tomorrow and maybe for a few days and we’re doing happy hour on Friday. Then my MRI. Then Kathy leaves for Paris and it’s my dad and me for six days.