All, Nothing, and Everything In Between

I woke to the insistent ring of my phone bell, its shrill tone pulling me from the thick, velvety grip of sleep. It took at least three alarms to nudge me out of that endless slumber my soul clung to so desperately. My nails clawed the tunnel from slumber to wakefulness, leaving marks along the sides before I finally surrendered to reality.

From there, I was on autopilot: coffee, feed the dogs, shower, shut the water off, load the puppies, head out. At least I had some forethought last night—turning on the water heater before bed meant my shower this morning was warmer than usual. As I stood under the stream, letting the water wash away the remnants of my sleep, I reminded myself to research that heater more. Surely it can give me a bit more blessed hot water? My whirly, achy body needs more heat to wash away the morning pain, and this lukewarm rinse is not cutting it.

Driving slowly through the dark park, headlights casting long shadows, the trees stood tall and quiet, as though they were still protecting the night. From the backseat, the dogs groaned. They’ve adjusted to these long commutes, but not without complaint. Their sighs and whines were subtle reminders that, like me, they prefer work-from-home days.

Traffic was just as chaotic as yesterday, but somehow I felt calmer—less stressed, less prickled by the endless stop-and-go rhythm. Maybe it was the coffee, maybe it was acceptance, or maybe it was the universe letting me start this day with a gentler heart.

As I drove, I caught the sunrise—soft streaks of color unfurling across the horizon, chasing away the shadows of the night. I watched the sky greet the sun and thought, despite the chaos of alarms, lukewarm water, and traffic jams, maybe this day wasn’t starting so bad after all.

My day actually did start off well. I reported to my boss lady about the day before—my lack of preparedness, my scatterbrained scramble, my ultimate derp—and I took full accountability, with a whimsical twist, of course. Ownership with a side of humor. To my relief, it was well received, and we moved on to an afternoon filled with meetings that rolled by in a blur of conversation and notes.

When the day finally ended, I hopped back in my truck and set out to pick up the babies. That’s when traffic came to a screeching halt thanks to an accident. I had a choice: sit there stewing for an hour or fork over $11 for the toll road to go just 12 measly miles. Insanity, I know. But with this truck, I’d have burned through that in gas just idling, so I figured I’d rather pay for sanity and lower blood pressure. Money well spent. Necessary? No. Bougie? Yes. Do I care? No. Judge me if you must.

While driving home, I had grand ideas—catchy blog titles, clever turns of phrase, whole streams of thought that felt like gold in that moment. I even thought, I wish I had a way to write these down before they slip away. Of course, now that I’m actually sitting here, I can’t recall a single one of those sparkling thoughts. The brilliance evaporated the moment the wheels stopped turning. Sometimes I swear I need a recorder wired into my brain to capture the spiral of racing thoughts, ideas, dreams, and wild fantasies. Then I wonder—is everyone’s mind this rampant? At work, I can focus, task by task, but in my own time? It’s chaos. Unless I fall into one of those hyper-focus moments where I bulldoze through until something’s finished. Why am I like this? I thought to myself and gently shook my head.

I took this moment to gaze out the window at the trees. The sun was setting, and the branches grew dark and long, casting shadows, with only a sliver of warm light spilling through. That’s when it hit me: “all or nothing.” That’s me. And as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I felt a sigh of relief—that was the exact spiral I’d been on in the truck earlier. The circle completed. Thankful that my blog hadn’t fallen victim to my forgetfulness, I pondered this thought further. But adulting called.

I could ponder as I cleaned—multitasking at its finest. I popped into Discord to chat with my gaming family, jotted a note in my digital notebook about “all or nothing,” then got to work. I checked in on my sick Auntie (who didn’t answer, which triggered a little anxiety, so I texted my cousin too), did the dishes, hauled out the trash, emptied my poop shoot and grey tank, sanitized the poop shoot (extra sparkle points for that one), and even charged the vacuum.

All this while Discord banter bounced in my ear. We jumped from flying objects in space, to Harvard scientists, politics, Iceland, Native Americans, mankind’s demise, and then dove straight into aliens and other galaxies. It was comedy, education, and science fiction all rolled into one while I scrubbed, dumped, and sanitized. Now that is multitasking.

And now that I’m sitting here writing, I can continue down the spiral I started and didn’t finish twice today. All or nothing. I thought about my life—what I can remember of childhood, teen years, young adulthood, and now this middle-aged (but feeling old) season. I tried to draw a connection between me and this “all or nothing” thread. Ever since my teens, I’ve been this way. You either wanted to know everything about me or nothing at all. Madly love me or not care. Best friend or no friend. Support me fully or not at all.

I reflected and asked myself—why am I like this? I see so many people with wide circles of friends, while I’m lucky to keep a handful. I’ve let people go as though they were weeds in a garden, plucked away when they disappointed me. And yet, as any gardener knows, many weeds aren’t weeds at all—they support the ecosystem, feed beneficial bugs, or heal through herbal remedies. Those people I weeded out? They meant something to me. They healed pieces of me, and maybe that’s why their betrayals cut so deep. I miss many of them, even now.

I don’t know where this all-or-nothing comes from, or if it can—or should—be fixed. Maybe it’s why I bond so deeply with animals. To them, their family is everything—their whole world. That resonates with me. It fills the part of my soul that needs to be someone’s “all.” Maybe that’s why relationships never work out—because I was never “all” to them. But to Odin and Freya, I am their entire universe. And they are mine. They don’t hurt me (not intentionally), I don’t have to beg to be loved—they’re always ready with sloppy kisses and warm snuggles.

Why am I like this? My therapist or Auntie would probably say childhood trauma. But doesn’t everyone carry some version of that weight? Maybe the better question isn’t why but what now? Do we accept ourselves as we are, or do we work to grow, change, and bend into something new?

I do believe my way of viewing the world keeps me in a bubble—a safe bubble, though one lined with fear. And I’ve been working to break free of that fear so I can better live my life, to feel freedom instead of the chains. Then another thought struck: happy versus peace. Their intersection, their differences. The idea spun in my head, but my tired mind was on the brink of shutdown. Too much to unravel tonight.

So instead, I begged a dog to come love me. Odin, ever-willing, leaned against me, using me as a resting post and neck scratcher. Once satisfied, he curled up beside me. Freya followed suit. I watched them sleep, their breaths steady, their bodies heavy with trust, until my own eyes fluttered closed. Peace.

Lessons of the Day

1. Snooze buttons aren’t alarms—they’re negotiations with sleep.

2. Lukewarm showers are the devil’s prank on tired bodies.

3. Dogs will always remind you: long commutes suck.

4. Coffee doesn’t solve traffic, but it sure makes you care less.

5. $11 for 12 miles? Bougie, yes. Sanity-saving? Also yes.

6. Brilliant ideas live in the truck… and die in the living room.

7. Discord is proof that comedy, science fiction, and philosophy can coexist in one conversation.

8. Adulting points multiply when you sanitize the poop shoot.

9. All-or-nothing thinking makes for deep reflections—but also deep cuts.

10. At the end of the day, peace looks a lot like

two dogs snoring beside you.