She’s Not Me.

My child is a storyteller who never stops talking, thinking, asking.

She is sassy, loving, compassionate and forgiving. Her enthusiasm, wild-card energy and witty banter are matched only by her mother.

She’s my spitting image and when she speaks it’s quite clear that she’s mine. 

With the good comes the bad and I worry. 

I worry when things pan out poorly, when they don’t go as planned that she’ll feel that same angst that I’ve felt.

I worry she’ll follow in my clumsy footsteps instead of taking a more direct path to her truth and purpose.

I worry she’ll face the challenges of the world and greet them with anxiety and loneliness, traits that will likely never leave me.

I worry people won’t see the youthful spirit burning bright within her when she’s managing a small army of toddlers instead of playing with them.

I know her tender heart will lead it to get broken like mine has many times before.

I worry if I am teaching her to love and grow with boundaries, a concept still largely new to me.

But, deep down I know that she will be fine because she’s not me. She’s so much more herself then I could ever teach her to be. 

Our children teach us who we are and clear the slate for what comes next. They teach us about who we’re supposed to become.

The more I get to know my daughter, the best version of myself I find. 

Seeking Human Kindness.

I was taught all my life to treat others as you want to be treated. Then I grew up – que year 2020, year 30 of my beautiful life and the world is mad BONKERS up-in-here.

But never-the-less, I will live in a world where no matter the angst or the tension – I will choose the opposite.

No matter what the world around me has going on, I will live in a world where I open the door for the person behind me.

No matter how pulled from our roots we become and no matter how bad most of our grandparents really do drive, I will remain in a world where I give up my seat for someone who needs it more then I do.

No matter how far missiles stretch, or who has the biggest bombs or rightest answer, I will still walk in a world where I look strangers right in their eyes and smile.

No matter how cluttered, rampant and overly-political the general news and it’s agenda becomes, I will still live in a world where I persist towards facts and logic.

No matter how antiquated and difficult it becomes to be kind, you will find me living in a world where it is served freely and abundantly.

No matter the storm; I will search for rainbows.

Because if all we can do is one small thing for the progress of our lives, it is to be kind.

And if there is one small thing we can do for the progress of mankind, it is simply, to choose kindness –

In all of our contacts with others.

This world can be whatever you want it to be, but reality shows, it takes best to kindness.

And maybe, I’m living in my own world here but – if all you will remember me by is a smiling stranger on the street willing to do her part, then just know I proudly served the world I lived in.


A MicroBlog by Kailyn McMahon


Anxiety.

Anxiety is sitting forever in a bathroom stall at work because you’re so trapped inside your head that you literally can not come back out.

It’s knowing you cannot get a grip even if you try, but still wading through it like you matter.

Anxiety is driving past your destination because you’re afraid of what will greet you at the door, even when you wanted to be there.

It’s fluffing around the front yard of the party until you’ve really convinced yourself that you’re good enough to be there.

Anxiety is having big plans and even bigger dreams but not being able to ask the first question, without assuming your burden on the world.

It’s being in a box inside a world that is so clearly spherical.

It’s grey hair and scrunched up wrinkles from a lifetime of ruthless worry – with no end in sight.

Anxiety is a loving heart and casting an open net, but a botched up brain that says: 

“Close the gates.” 

It’s knowing all my flaked-out plans means people might not come back for me, but sweating – hoping that they do.

It’s knowing that I say “I’m sorry” too much and that I ask too many questions.

It’s not being able to stop living my life with paranoia.

Anxiety is “I have tried to change.” This is who I am, and I am asking you:

Please, love me anyway.


by Kailyn McMahon

August 2019