Author Archives: Jaclynn Loibl

I love being a parent. I soak up every moment, watching my little human buddy blossom before my eyes. “Mom, is it ‘great’ or ‘shit’ I can’t say?” I take full responsibility as the resident swearer in the household, but this particular confusion? That’s all on her. To be fair, we were deep into herContinue reading “It’s Shittin’ Great”

I’ve been a mental health therapist for over 15 years now. Early in my career, I imagined therapy as a world of wisdom passed down from those with titles and credentials. I saw seasoned therapists as something close to all-knowing, their expertise a kind of magic I had yet to unlock. I believed that withContinue reading “The Real Work of Therapy: Embracing our Humanity”

I ran two miles today. Scratch that—I walked/ran two miles today. A 10+ minute mile might not be fast, but it’s a starting point. I went a mile to the left, down a country road, past Maria and Lainee’s houses to the stop sign, past three big houses on the right, and then another quarterContinue reading “Running in Circles”

I may have overdone stuffing my belly on doughnuts, but hey, they’re homemade, and we live once. Once stationed in the office, the space heater has made its way to the bedroom, and let me tell you—it’s a game changer. Central air is great, but sometimes, you just want to control the temperature of oneContinue reading “Providence Canyon Joy”

I’m dragging myself here—hand to wrist, yanking, sitting myself down. To write. I don’t want to. I don’t quite know why. I think I’m miserable, but I’m skeptical of how true that is. There’s a bigness, a drama to my feelings that I don’t fully understand. Does the rotisserie chicken and Ritz cracker casserole thatContinue reading “Through the Rapids”

T-minus 20 minutes until I check on my sourdough loaf in the oven. With that time, I write. About bread. About the joy of having an uncut loaf, where I get to decide the width of each slice. Thick for decadent, fluffy French toast. Then thin when I just need a little something to holdContinue reading “Doughing Out the Welcome Mat”

While sitting on the back porch past bedtime with Dave, between a barred owl’s hoots, little Evelyn appeared in her full-length, cheetah-patterned pajamas. Her innocence, cuteness, and articulation were almost too much for any mother. But then came the question that gutted me: “When people die, can they come back alive?” Pulling her into myContinue reading “A Hard Truth”

Day two at the water park was a good one. I’m tired and stuffed, and honestly, writing is getting in the way of snuggling up in some jammies and drifting off. Oh, and I feel the itch of dried pool chlorine water. A sudsy shower and heapings of lotion could help. Rest assured, I’ll beContinue reading “Waterlogged and Worn Out”