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Elizabeth Dutton


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don’t throw your hand


I have spent much of my life being that kid in “Parenthood” (the movie, not the tv show) who freaks the fuck out when he loses his retainer at the Chuck E. Cheese style pizza place and his parents wonder where they went wrong and how this kid is going to ever pull himself together. (Although, to be completely honest, animatronic performing animals and skee ball games kind of encourage a loss of reason and promote total freak outs. At least in me.) That kid is me, with family watching overwhelmed and irritated as I melt down time and again. Intellectually, I know this is ridiculous and that I can get my act together and relax and let the universe unfold as it should. But my intellect sometimes flies out the window, and there I am sweating out a panic attack in the produce aisle at the supermarket. At least the kid in Parenthood had a trigger — losing his retainer. My anxiety comes from very real places, but mostly out of nowhere.

I prefer happiness and love and calm over fear and panic and worry. How do I promote the good and release the bad? Lists, my babies. Lots of lists.


people who make other people happy
new ideas, especially when they materialize in the shower
growing gourds
being right here
not giving a toss what others think about me
letting go


doctor’s appointments
sweaty panic attacks


super awesome:

lots of love to all of you

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