Mojo and the Mess

Gratitude looks different for me now.

It’s not some big, glowing list of blessings or a moment where everything suddenly feels lighter.

For me, gratitude shows up in pieces — in the soft, steady things that stay even when everything else feels unsteady.

So here’s my version of what I’m grateful for — honest, messy, and real.

I’m grateful for the people who show up when it counts.

Not the ones who only appear when the story sounds inspiring… but the ones who show up in the dark parts.

The ones who sit with me when I can’t sit with myself.

The ones who text at the exact right moment or drop off food when I haven’t eaten in hours.

The ones who don’t disappear when things get uncomfortable.

They don’t expect anything from me.

They don’t rush me.

They don’t ask me to be strong.

They just make space — and that kind of love holds my world together.

I’m grateful for places that feel like home—even when I don’t.

One of those places is Giuseppe’s Steel City Pizza.

It’s funny how comfort shifts.

How the things that feel safe aren’t always the things you expect.

For me, it’s the familiarity of Giuseppe’s — the warm, predictable feeling of walking in and knowing exactly what I’ll get.

A pizza when I’m too tired to think.

A bowl of Italian wedding soup when my body needs something gentle.

A place that doesn’t ask questions or require energy I don’t have.

Just simple, steady comfort.

Giuseppe’s became part of my life’s “new normal” without even trying.

I’m grateful for the small joys that soften the hard days.

Mojo snoring like he’s twice his size.

Pete laughing at something dumb on TV.

Fresh sheets.

A warm blanket.

The rare morning when coffee doesn’t make my stomach hurt.

A moment where I don’t feel like a patient — just a person.

Those tiny, quiet joys keep me from unraveling.

They may be small, but they matter.

I’m grateful for this community — the one built from all my mess.

Every message.

Every comment.

Every person who reads whatever I have in me that day.

This isn’t just a blog — it’s connection.

It’s purpose.

It’s a reminder that even the ugliest parts of my story help someone else feel less alone.

This community is something I never expected and now can’t imagine my life without.

I’m grateful that even in a life full of losses, I still have things left to love.

That’s what it all comes down to.

Gratitude, for me, isn’t pretending things are okay.

It’s noticing the things that still feel right in a world that often feels wrong.

Mojo.

Pete.

Family.

Friends.

Moments of laughter.

The community built from the mess.

A meal from Giuseppe’s on a night when I’m running on fumes.

Pieces of my life that still feel warm, familiar, and worth holding onto.

This isn’t the life I planned for, but there are still things I’m grateful for.

And today, that’s enough.

📬 Subscriber Note

If my writing, my story, or the messy parts of this journey have helped you feel less alone, I’d love if you subscribed to the blog. It’s free, it supports me more than you know, and it helps keep Mojo and the Mess going. 💛

🍕 A Little Encouragement

If you’re local… go try Giuseppe’s Steel City Pizza. Truly.

If you want comfort food that actually feels like comfort — warm, real, familiar — they’re that place.

And if you’re ever passing through Port Orange — whether it’s for the races, Bike Week, a holiday trip, or just heading toward the beach — Giuseppe’s is the best stop you can make. It’s one of those places that instantly feels like you picked the right spot, even if it’s your first visit.

They’ve become a constant for me, and I think you’ll feel that too.

🌐 Before You Go…

If you’re new here — or if you’re going through something heavy — I wanted to leave you with a few places on the site that might help:

✨ Need support, guidance, or tools?

Visit the Resources page.

It’s filled with things that have helped me along the way — from practical support to emotional tools — because no one should have to do this alone.

✨ Want to support the blog or help keep Mojo and the Mess going?

There’s a page for that too.

Every bit of help goes directly toward my care, this blog, and keeping my story alive.

✨ Just want to understand my journey?

Head to the Home Page and read my story from the beginning.

Start wherever you want. Skip around. Stay a while.

This is a place built on honesty, connection, and the messy truth — and I’m glad you’re here.