This Body is Bullshit

Hi, I’m Molly.
HR by day. Dog mom, wife, mom, over-thinker, survivor, and realist with a steady stream of sarcasm.

This blog started because—if I’m being honest—my body is bullshit.
It’s been through single mom life, cancer, sepsis, seven surgeries (and counting), chronic pain, grief, loss, hormonal chaos, and some truly bizarre side effects. And still, somehow, people ask me why I’m tired.

Writing became my version of therapy. It started as journaling, inspired by Suleika Jaouad.
I’m not great at opening up in real life. I don’t like to worry people, and I’ve spent years pretending I’m fine when I’m very much not. I say some things out loud—but not everything. Here? I try to.

This isn’t a highlight reel. It’s a running record of what it actually feels like to live inside all of this—health stuff, family stuff, grief, caregiving, work, joy, exhaustion… all of it.

Because it’s not all heavy.

I’ve lived a wild, messy, beautiful life. I’ve partied hard, loved deeply, cried in hospital beds, and laughed until I couldn’t breathe with my favorite people. I have a husband who’s both my rock and my soft place to land, a strong, independent daughter I’m endlessly proud of, and a house full of dog hair and unconditional love.

Somewhere along the way, I’ve changed.

I’m less angry now. Still sarcastic. Still opinionated. Still capable of losing my patience—but less sharp around the edges. I’ve become more intentional with my time, my energy, and who I give it to. Not because I have it all figured out—but because I don’t have the capacity to carry everything anymore.

I don’t want a bigger life.
I want a truer one.

I’m still figuring out what that looks like—more curiosity, more depth, hopefully more travel, and definitely more living in the moments that matter.

I’m not a relentless optimist.
I’m a tired one. A realistic one.
But I still believe in good days. And I still show up.

This blog is where I put it all—funny, painful, awkward, frustrating, joyful, and true.

So if you’ve ever felt invisible in your own pain, overwhelmed by your own life, or just needed to know someone else gets it—

Welcome. You’re not alone.

And I probably have snacks.