Clarkston CBD Co.

03/14/2026

01/16/2026

This little puppy is missing from the Peola Road area. He's now 11 weeks old. Have you seen him? If so, please send us a message or call 208-743-3157.

12/31/2025

Motherhood has a way of reshaping you quietly—before you even realize it’s happening.

I’m learning that I can love this season deeply and still grieve the versions of myself that came before it. The independent woman. The achiever. The one who could push through discomfort and keep going. She didn’t disappear—but she did change.

Some days, anxiety makes that shift feel heavy. Like I’m losing parts of myself instead of expanding. But other days, I see it more clearly.

I’m not becoming less of who I was.
I’m becoming more—just differently.

Slower. Softer. More aware of my limits.
More present. More human.

I’m learning that strength now looks like resting.
That productivity doesn’t define my worth.
That being “enough” doesn’t require proving anything at all.

I’m still finding my footing in this new identity—
as a mother, a partner, a woman in transition.

And maybe that’s exactly where I’m meant to be.

✨ If you’re navigating a shift in who you are—or who you’re becoming—I’d love to hear what that’s looked like for you. ✨

12/29/2025

Overwhelming anxiety.
It’s labeled Generalized Anxiety Disorder in my medical chart, but that label barely scratches the surface of what it looks like for me.

Mine is multifaceted—confusing and deeply frustrating. It has peaks and valleys, but mostly peaks. The “good” days are the ones where the tightness in my chest only shows up once. My anxiety doesn’t really take days off. It’s consistent in that way.

I use the tools. I try the tricks. But when I become overstimulated, it turns into pure chaos in my body.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were especially hard. I wanted—so badly—to fully take in every moment of my first Christmas as a mom. And I did enjoy moments. Truly. But I was short with my husband. I felt rushed everywhere we went. I didn’t slow down when my body was begging me to rest.

Right now, I’m in that overstimulated, high-anxiety space. Where I have a million and one things to do—and no energy or capacity to do any of them.

So for now, I take an anxiety pill. I pray it kicks in—and actually works. I sit in a tiny plush strawberry meant for children, facing what will eventually be my new view, and I just… pause.

Some seasons aren’t about fixing or finishing.
They’re about surviving what’s loud inside your body.

More soon.