I feel unhappy, I feel so sad
I’ve lost the best friend that I ever had
She was my woman, I loved her so
But it’s too late now, I’ve let her go

I’m going through changes
I’m going through changes

We shared the years, we shared each day
In love, together, we found the way
But soon, the world had its evil way
My heart was blinded, love went astray

I’m going through changes
I’m going through changes

~Black Sabbath

This song is much more sad and somber, than I am today. The lyrics, for me, have more than one meaning. I think of the person I called my best friend, for some two decades or so. I think of my mother, along with others, who were once big parts of my life. I also feel these words portray a sort of losing of myself, as I knew her. No one can ever steal me, from myself, but I’m not the same version of who I was. I carry all the memories, mourn the same losses, still celebrate every joyful moment, but in many ways I’m not really the same person. Life’s most significant events have always brought about some changes. Not always bad ones. There’s good, too. Changes in the how’s, the where’s, the when’s, the why’s. Also, changes in who. Who’s there. Who’s not. Who I was then, and who I am now. History makes its impact, in ways that can’t necessarily always be seen, felt, or undone. Certainly, that can never be redone. It’s funny, once in awhile I take a step back, and I look at myself from different perspectives. I view myself today, through the lens of younger me. I imagine older me, and what advice she might have for me. Would younger me be proud of where I’ve taken her? Would she be impressed, or disappointed, to find out where she’s going? Will older me be proud of how far she’s come? What would each of those “me’s” want me to know, right now? I believe they’d both tell me not to be so hard on myself. They’d tell me to quit worrying, so much. That it’s going to be okay, no matter what happens. You’re going to get through even the hardest times. I learned to do this exercise, in therapy. Something I realized, is that anytime I think of my younger self, and imagine speaking to her, my heart fills with such compassion. Almost like when I’m looking at my own children. I want to comfort her. I want her to know, I’m proud of her. That she’s capable of great things, and to just hang in there, because there’s a whole lot of amazing things to look forward to in her future. I want her to feel the love I know that she longs for, and if it were possible, I’d reach into the past and give it to her. All of this affords me an opportunity to view myself in this very moment, with more love and compassion. When I consider what future me might want me to know, I’m almost positive she’ll look back to present day me and feel exactly the same way that present day me does about past tense me. I hope that makes sense, to anyone reading this.

This current “operating system” I’m running on has been through a whole lot of “updates”. I look a bit different, than just a few years ago. My hair is longer, and so are my fingernails. My skin is actually healthier. I’m well hydrated, and those little creases from smile lines weren’t simply effects of aging. I discovered that I needed a hell of a lot more moisturizers, for my hair and my face. After finding the right amounts and products, holy shit my skin and hair look pretty darned good, if I do say so myself. I’ve gotten calmer. My ability to “take it in stride” has improved. My faith in Christ has grown deeper, and stronger. My wardrobe’s different. I’ve upgraded my closet, to include a much wider variety of options and stylistic choices. I’m the proud owner of a lot more pairs of shoes, almost entirely heels. My taste in accessories, like sunglasses, purses, perfumes, has become somewhat “fancy”. I appreciate well made, authentic options. Not everything’s required to be adorned with designer labels, and Lord knows I love to find me a good bargain, but I do enjoy acquiring nice things. I’ve developed an interest in some new things, too. My home is decorated quite differently. Color schemes, wall art, and furniture choices have evolved. I’ve really honed in on my crafting abilities. Although, far from perfect, I’ve become fairly good at making creative new arts and craft projects. I’m still kind of a “homebody”, but I also do get out more. I know it sounds contradictory, but I’ve gotten more open to new and different opportunities, while also more closely guarding my peace. I’m probably not making myself quite as vulnerable, as I may have done before. I’ve always had some “rough edges”. I’ll never forget, in high school, when a boy said to me, “You’ve got a hard shell, but you’re a good egg.” I suppose that analogy still applies. I’m often not great at giving the best first impressions. Many people mistake my “hard shell” for bitchiness. What might, at first glance, appear to be irritation or lack of interest, is very often not at all the case. It’s nearly always just a matter of fear. I’m afraid. Afraid to let you get too close. Afraid your intentions aren’t good. Afraid something bad will happen. Afraid I’ll get hurt. Afraid I’ll hurt you. There’s all kinds of things, like that, which suppress my desires for friendship and love. The world is an incredibly unsafe place. I know this. That doesn’t stop me from craving the comfort in some measure of knowing I’m safe, somewhere. Whether it’s at home, at the grocery store, talking with friends or family, I so want to feel safe. There are very limited few people and places, that I fully trust. This is likely why my circle is small, and why home is my favorite place to be! My fears and uncertainty are things I will often attempt to conceal. I hide those insecurities behind false confidence, aiming to project a harsher image of myself, so that I might avoid handing others an opportunity to harm me. I resemble my miniature Australian Shepherd dog, in this way, because he’s an “all bark and no bite” type of personality, too. He wants your attention and affection, but he’s scared of people he doesn’t know, yet. He makes himself look and sound ferocious, until he’s assured it’s safe to let his guard down. Once you get to know him, you quickly realize that underneath his growls and barks, he’s a sweet and gentle soul. And anyway, he’d never have bitten you.

I need to go get my clothes changed, and ready for the day. I’ve got a grocery order to pick up. I need to swing by the post office, and then I’m meeting a friend for a little “coffee date”. After that, I’ll pick Mj up from her summer camp, and come home to cook supper. See, future self and all y’all, I get out. I’m expanding my comfort zone. At least, a little bit. 😉

I’m proud of you, honey, it’s been a long road 
You’ve been workin’ hard, girl, look at you go 
Yeah, it’s your time, keep movin’ on 
Keep on goin’, keep provin’ ’em wrong

Look at how far you’ve come now 
Look at all you’ve done now 
I’m glad I got a front row view 
To see all of your dreams come true 
I’m proud of you

Just know I always got you 
Don’t let nobody stop you 
Keep goin’, girl, you got to 

Yeah, baby, I’m proud of you

~David Morris

One of my favorite, maybe even my most favorite things to hear is, I’m proud of you. Particularly, when it’s said from someone I love. Although, it can also be very encouraging, coming from just about anybody. My heart practically bursts knowing my hard work, or my courage, commitment, dedication to something, has been noticed. I always want to live up to the version of myself that those who know and care for me believe in. The me their eyes see. It isn’t so much that I think I need to “earn” love. I sometimes look at the beautiful and amazing people around me and I wonder, what did I ever do to deserve them? I’m not entirely convinced that I do, deserve them. I’m not always so sure if I really am as good as they can and should get. Then again, I recognize the “rose colored glasses”, through which I view those I love and care about. Those glasses have prevented me from recognizing bad intentions, on occasion. I’m guilty of ignoring, excusing, or forgiving things I really shouldn’t have. At least, not nearly so readily. I’ve got an optimism bias, with others. For myself, I often feel the opposite. I’m extremely critical of myself, when I’ve failed to meet my own expectations. That harsh criticism just doesn’t carry over into judgements I’ve made, when it comes to other people. I love fiercely. I’ll forever be your “ride or die”, providing that ya don’t fuck with my family. Even then, I’ve let plenty of cruel and potentially harmful actions go. My only real requirement is that they’re genuinely remorseful. That they’re willing to take accountability for their actions, and committed to making sure it doesn’t happen again. That’s all I’ve ever asked for. I’ve reconciled with some, who’ve repeatedly caused my family and I pain, because it’s so easy for me to tell myself that it wasn’t their intention. They were drunk, or high. They were in a terribly abusive relationship, and felt powerless to prevent what happened. They had a traumatic childhood, and simply didn’t know what healthy relationships looked like. They were hurting. Maybe it was partially my fault. After all, I’m sure there are many opportunities I probably missed, to have made a difference before it got to the point it did. Always, I can find reasons to assure myself they love me. Yes, they made a mistake. They did a bad thing, but they’d never meant to cut me so deeply. They understand the repercussions I suffered, because of their choices, and it wouldn’t happen again. They’d certainly never escalate, creating more damage than this. We’ve been through so much. There’s just no way anyone I’ve sincerely shared my entire world with, would aim to destroy it. How could even someone who hated me, let alone somebody who claimed to love me, want to hurt me so badly? I’m still unable to make it make sense, to myself. My heart doesn’t work that way. I don’t always say the right or best things. I do, and don’t do, things I regret. My words and actions are never purely motivated by intent to inflict pain upon anyone. Not any single one. I can confidently proclaim that. It doesn’t mean I can’t, haven’t, or don’t sometimes hurt people. It was and is absolutely never malicious, though. When I’m angry or upset, I don’t always choose the best method of expressing myself. I say things the wrong way. I walk away, when I should’ve stayed. I continue to argue, when I should’ve stepped away. The distinction I’m making, is that in all those situations, I was attempting to resolve an issue. I want to be heard, and understood. I want to listen and talk with a person I’m convinced is inside there. I want to help. I’m looking for clarity. I’m concerned. I’m confused. I need a little bit of compassion. All of this doesn’t always manage to fit neatly into the sort of conversations you’d see on a family sitcom, but I fight both with and for the people I care most about. Strangers can’t really disappoint me. I’ve no expectations of them. It’s only the ones closest, who are capable of the kind of deep and painful wounds caused by cruelty, betrayal, lies, slander, abuse. Strangers can’t hurt me like that.

I’m no saint, but dammit I’m a decent person. I’m loyal, faithful, trustworthy. I will move heaven and earth for you, if it’s what’s needed. I’ll defend and protect with my life. I forgive. I just can’t possibly alone take the next steps, that could lead to reconciliation and eventual reunification. That part isn’t my burden. It’s not required of me. Forgiveness doesn’t mean allowing someone back through the very walls I’ve built out of the necessity to protect what’s behind them, from those requiring forgiveness in the first place. Forgiveness is letting go of anger. It’s committing to waiving that primal desire for retribution. Beyond that, no one outside my walls is owed more, from me.

It’s especially in these recent years, I’ve needed to know someone does believe in me. To know I’m not a bad person. Somebody looks at me, and sees a girl who’s worthy. Worthy of praise. Worthy of affection. Worthy of love. Adam has told me some version of that phrase, I’m proud of you, fairly frequently. It feels good. It means more than I imagine he even realizes. I’ve heard it from my kids, from my dad, my sister, my friends, even from some relative strangers. It always matters, but never more than when it comes from my husband.

Woke up shakin’ and I’m sweating

Heart racing in the dark

PTSD hitting harder

Than a goddamn buckshot spark

Guns in the damn closet

Ghosts in the fucking hall

Some nights I swear 

I hear the damn devil call

Every sunrise 

Feels like a second chance

Every sunset 

Drags me back into that trance

I’m tired of running

Tired of falling apart

Trying to stitch up the holes

In this busted ass heart

My kids deserve better 

Than a half dead [woman]

So I’m fighting everyday

Just to stick to the goddamn plan 

I ain’t fuckin’ perfect

Never claimed I was clean

But I’m clawing my way out

Of everything I damn seen

If I die tonight 

Let ‘em say I tried

A broken [woman]

Still swinging on the North side

It’s a fucked up world

Here inside my head 

Where the nightmares live

And the angels fled 

Where the whiskey talks

And the pain ain’t dead

Where I’m begging God

Don’t give up yet 

I’m walking that line 

Between hell and hope

Trying to climb

Out on this same ass fucking rope

Every damn day 

I’m losing and winning 

But at least I’m still in it

At least I’m still living

Some nights I break

Some nights I bend 

Some nights I swear

The shit won’t end 

But I keep on fighting 

With bloodshot eyes

‘Cause a [woman] ain’t done

Until the day [she] fuckin’ dies

I been fighting like hell 

With the shit in my head

Demons in the mirror

Try to drag me to their death

Got a Bible on the dash

Got a bottle by the bed

Trying to walk with God

But the devil’s in my fuckin’ head

~Jeremy Bentley

This song was only released, earlier this year. It immediately made it onto my “frequently played” playlist. I’ve got every word memorized. It speaks to me. It describes, in this edgy and authentic way, just what I’ve felt. Still feel, on hard days. Some lines touch on the anger and frustration. Some lines remind me exactly why I keep going. The promises I’ve made, to myself and to my family. His words reflect back to me my own determination. My faith. This story of suffering and pain doesn’t only belong to a few. So many people are fighting their own demons, everyday, and begging not to be given up on. We shouldn’t weigh our struggles against those of others, but it’s important to remember you’re not alone. Just because we don’t necessarily see it, in the faces of those around us, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. You never know the battles being fought, inside the minds of strangers. Like another good song says, everybody hurts.

Something I’ve recently learned, is that a bad day isn’t failure. It’s okay to not always be okay. That doesn’t mean the good, in between a bad day, wasn’t real. It doesn’t undo all the progress I’ve made. I have to be mindful, not to let hurt or fears hold me inside tough moments, or hard days. I have to acknowledge what I’m feeling, otherwise it’s going to haunt me. They have already tormented me, many times. I’m not sure I’ll ever be truly rid of them, altogether. They didn’t win, yesterday. They won’t win, tomorrow. If today, it seems like they’re winning, I lean on God. I look at the people I love, and I allow their love for me to penetrate through my darkest thoughts. That’s how I have, do, and will always, find strength and light that guide me. I don’t need to be perfect, to stay wanted. I’m allowed to screw up. I’m entitled to a good cry, once in awhile. When Adam holds me, I know I’m safe. When I embrace my children, I know they feel safe. I am wanted, and I’m needed. I am given so many beautiful moments. I’m capable of creating and participating in more wonderful memories. I’m damaged. I’m flawed. I’m not irreparably broken, though. I’ve accepted, I won’t ever be “fixed”, or brought back to the way I used to be. I can still be useful, though. God has a plan for me. He’s perfectly capable of turning my weaknesses into strengths. Of providing opportunities, where I can offer my talent and time to do great things. I’m being prepared for something, always. Even when I don’t yet know when, how, or why, He does. I’m sure that, in time, answers and solutions will be provided. Many, many times, a way has been made for me. I’m choosing to trust what I can’t prove, but absolutely know is real. I’ll never outrun the past. It will follow into my future, but it can’t take it, unless I give it away. So on those days, when I hear the whispers from Satan tell me all the reasons I should give up, I remind myself of both who fights for me, and what we’re fighting for. Rather than focus on what and where I’ve been, I should instead concentrate on where I’m going. This is my true North. The gravity that pulls me back down to earth, when I’m losing my way. A bad day isn’t final. Neither is a good day, an end to all my bad ones. It’s one moment. One day. Endings are also beginnings. That’s inevitable. That’s life. Cling to goodness, even and especially in the darkness. Because, just as the sun sets, it rises again.

When I say, I’m doing much better, this is what I mean. Not that there aren’t bad days, but that they can’t scare me, like they used to. This restores my confidence, and more and more, there are glimmers that suggest my spark’s being reignited. Less images capture the despair I tried hiding behind a smile, because it’s being slowly replaced with hope. The voices of pity and doom aren’t able to shout at me. Occasionally, I can hear them, but I’m not intimidated. Not even on the bad days. Not anymore. I’m able to turn and face my demons, and it strips them of the power they’d held over me. I hear you. I see you. Now, shut up. I’m busy with things that matter.

Hello from the bottom, look mama, we almost made it
Haters pay attention to the henchmen, they’re relentless
Almost lost my life by inches in an instance, it’s so senseless
Tension has been endless, I’ve never sat the benches
Jumped the hurdles, climbed the fences, dug myself out of the ditches
Face first into trenches, wiped the mud off of my lenses
Now, I’m back with a vengeance, hear the lickin’-ass repentence
My intentions never been get rich at someone elses expenses
Did my sentence standing tall, cut ’em short I hear they snitchin’
I won’t mention all the bitches that was wishin’ I was finished
Speakin’ to the real, so all my people ridin’ with me

People in the trenches hear this song, they feeling that
I been on the top and lost it all, I’ll get it back
Every word in this song, I’m living that
Somewhere along the way I got lost, I’ll bring it back

~Struggle Jennings

Yesterday, I really didn’t do much to write about. I got the house cleaned up, after our long weekend. I was ready for bed, last night! I think I was just exhausted, from all our fun shenanigans. Today, I had to go into Nashville, to get my blood drawn. My doctor’s been wanting to do that, every other month, to monitor a bunch of the things. My iron levels have continued to improve, although not as much as they need to. Anemia throws my thyroid out of whack. It fucks with my red and white blood counts. I have noticed a big drop in the amount of alerts my watch sends, because my heart rate is too high. That’s another thing that happens. My heart races. I’ve gone from 5-10 alerts, per day, to maybe one or two a month. This is a marathon, not a sprint. It’s going to take time. At least, that’s what my doctor tells me.

In a lot of ways, restoring my mental health has been much easier than repairing the damage done to my body. I blame no one, but myself, for my physical health challenges. That’s on me. I don’t eat right. It’s been strange, the way my desire for some foods, and disgust with others, have evolved. I still struggle with textures, more than anything else. I also just do not enjoy being “full”. There are lots of foods, that were always my favorites, but that now repulse me. I eat almost no meat. Pretty much the only thing I’ll stomach, is fried chicken. I’ll eat half a chicken tender, occasionally. Anything with cheese, was always my favorites. Now, not so much. I’ve got a nutritionist. It was easier to make her a list of things I will eat, than those I won’t. It’s a short list. I wasn’t always like this. I didn’t used to be a picky eater. I mean this with every fiber of my being, trying to gain weight, and get healthy, is no less of a struggle than it is for those working to lose weight. I have to take every single bite, with intention. I have to consider every calorie I put into my body, as well as those I burn. I have to be conscientious about the nutritional value inside every meal. I have to choose more than mashed potatoes, or peanut butter toast, and that ain’t exactly easy for me! For the first time in more than two years, the scale actually registered more than two digits, while I stood on it. I weighed exactly 100.3 pounds. I’ll take that win, and celebrate these little successes. Isn’t it amazing, how quickly we can fall down, but getting back upright is such a long and very hard process? Someone once said to me, “Most every person would die, to protect their family. Few of us will actually find ourselves in that circumstance, though. What’s much more common, is situations where we’re tempted to give up. Where we convince ourselves we’re useless. If you’re brave enough to give your life, for them, find the courage to live. Live for them. No matter how unworthy you might feel, you matter to someone. Your life is valuable, even when you can’t see that. Fight for yourself. Because, they aren’t asking you to die for them. They need you to live.” That really stuck with me.

My smiles are genuine. The fact that I’m choosing to laugh with my family, to live and to love this life, that doesn’t mean history no longer matters to me. It definitely does matter, but I’ll not continue to let it define me. There are parts of my past, never going to be welcome in my future. There are parts that I truly pray I’ll one day be able to share it with. The latter, isn’t entirely up to me. That’s a choice for them to make. There are people who I couldn’t quit loving, if I wanted to. I can love someone, but hate their actions. There are people, who will forever occupy a place in my heart, but maybe not my life. I can want, and wish, and pray all day long, but so long as they continue to be a dangerous threat to everyone else that I love, I can’t let them back in. There are some, who can’t understand that. Who place blame squarely on me, for my “doors” being closed to anyone I love. I’ve defended myself from well meaning fools, who’ve argued with me over the fact that my own mom isn’t in my life. They’ll claim that, no matter what, she’s still your mom. My point, exactly! She’s supposed to be my Mom! She’s supposed to keep me safe. You think I’m honestly cold-hearted and capable of pushing her out, on a whim, because she pissed me off?? SHE LEFT! Claiming to know how to “fix” my relationships, as if you’d have perfectly handled walking in my shoes, is a load of crap. Especially considering all the details and facts, that you most certainly are not informed of. It’s an ignorant assumption. One I suspect I’d also have made, in their shoes, before the last decade of my life. It simply isn’t fair, to judge. It wasn’t my decision, when anyone tried to burn me to the ground, along with all that I cared about. I didn’t slam that door closed. They did. For some people, that door is permanently locked. For others, they’ve got the keys to it. Whether or not it’s used, is entirely dependent upon their willingness to get back here. For now, they’ve yet to take a single step toward me. In fact, they’re running in the opposite direction.

The point is, how many tears I cry or for how long, are not a stick with which anyone can measure the depth of the love I felt or feel, for those not with me. My inability to move on, would no more prove my love, than my ability to move on could disprove it. Mine and my family’s life didn’t stop, just because they weren’t watching. You can’t press pause, on us, like a Netlix show. We won’t be at the same place we were left off. We’re making memories. Celebrating holidays. Having birthdays, and anniversaries. It took me a long time, to accept that it was okay for us to do those things. I held onto a lot of guilt, and it prevented me from feeling truly present in my own life. My goal was simply to survive. We existed in a constant cycle of anxiety, fear, anger, and sadness. Adrenaline propelled me forward. And then, the high of the emotional rollercoaster, was over. Dazed, exhausted, and confused, it took awhile to get our bearings. It took even longer, before I’d even contemplate a future that we could participate in choosing. Picking a direction, and moving toward something good. I’d spent so much time, just running from what was harming us. There was no place to head towards. Only what we had to go from. Faced with the ability to seek out peace and comfort, was overwhelming. My heart longed for it, but my mind trusted nothing. I’ve arrived at somewhere that physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, I can relax inside. Well, I got here long before I felt safe enough to settle in.

If there are names I don’t mention, it’s not necessarily because I don’t care anymore. More often than not, my silence is an expression of love. Speaking up, in most cases, would serve no one, and no purpose. Including, my own peace. I can write about my feelings, emotions, and experiences, without explaining every why behind them. I know why. I know how. I don’t have to defend myself, and I won’t selfishly list off all the offenses of another person, just to justify the thoughts I express. If I had to confess the sins, betrayal, and trespass of others, in order to protest my innocence in an allegation, that would usher in nothing but hate. I’d be swallowed up by it. Condemning myself to the very torment I’ve been set free from. “Setting myself on fire, hoping someone else gets burned.” I won’t do it. I’ll stay right here, where I am, because it’s the best place I’ve been. I can’t save everybody from being burned, but I damn sure won’t be the one lighting them on fire.

I don’t like my mind right now 
Stacking up problems that are so unnecessary 
Wish that I could slow things down 
I wanna let go, but there’s comfort in the panic

And I drive myself crazy 
Thinking everything’s about me 
Yeah, I drive myself crazy 
‘Cause I can’t escape the gravity

You say that I’m paranoid 
But I’m pretty sure the world is out to get me 
It’s not like I make the choice 
To let my mind stay so fucking messy

I know I’m not the center of the universe 
But you keep spinning ’round me just the same 

I’m holding on 
Why is everything so heavy? 
Holding on 
To so much more than I can carry

I keep dragging around what’s bringing me down 
If I just let go, I’d be set free 
Holding on 
Why is everything so heavy?

~Linkin Park (feat. Kiiara)

My choice of song title and lyrics, here, probably give the impression that I’m not okay. Especially considering that I haven’t written in far too long.

I’m okay.

It’s really frustrating me, that I’m finding it difficult to pour out my thoughts into my own blog. One I created some EIGHT YEARS ago, as an outlet for them. I’ve written about my deepest sorrows, my hardest struggles, my greatest joy, and everything in between. I found real healing, from the process of forming my thoughts into these words that filled the “pages” of my blog. I learned things about myself, through simply acknowledging things I was feeling, here. I genuinely got to know and understand who I was, and why, in ways I hadn’t before. It’s not always easy, putting words down, into sentences and then paragraphs, but it allowed me to get out of my own head. Sort of like letting go of things I’d held onto, for such a long time. I so badly want to keep pouring myself out, into my blog. It’s been tough for me to do it, though. Partly because of choices I made, in the past, to share some of the pieces of these incredibly raw and vulnerable things I’d once written inside here. I’m really uncomfortable with the fact that my story, my life, could be accessed by anyone who’s no longer welcome inside it. I don’t want to be writing anything specifically directed to someone else. I’m not interested in conversations with someone who’s been relegated only to my past. I know that I can’t be honest, if I’m having to carefully curate my words, because I’m fearful over them landing in the ears of someone who might twist them to fit a narrative, or who might expose my most intimate and personal feelings and experiences. It seems silly, in a way, because I’ve literally opened myself up to an entire online audience, but you’re here because something I’ve shared has been relatable to you. Not because you’re prying into my world, gathering up information that could be used as ammunition to hurt me. Even more than all that, I need to move the fuck on. There is this knee-jerk reaction, when I’m accused of something I haven’t done, or been lied to and about. I spent way too much of my time attempting to defend myself and my family, against bullshit, and to anybody who actually believed it. I’ve come to realize, that’s absolutely pointless. “Those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind don’t matter.” That’s my favorite quote, and it couldn’t be truer. It’s one thing to falsely paint some grotesque version of me, that never existed. It’s a whole other thing, if it’s accepted and believed by others. Not others who’ve never known me, but those whom I’d always expected would know me better than that. It honestly doesn’t make a difference, if time has proven I’m not the most vile things said about me. It doesn’t change the reality of those who said them, or of those who could have ever believed them.

I spent such a long time questioning who I even was. Who I am, now. Wondering, how could anyone have been capable of believing that I wasn’t the person I’ve always proven myself to be? I laid myself bare, before those I’d loved and cared for. I never hid from my flaws or mistakes. I didn’t put on some elaborate disguise, meant to fool those I let know me, into believing in me, or loving me back. Sure, there are certain things that are only shared with my husband. Some things only reserved for those I thought I could trust most in this world. There were no shameful secrets, though. No parts of myself that I kept hidden, because if exposed, I’d no longer be trusted, wanted, or loved. I don’t let people “in”, easily. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been cautious about opening up myself and those close to me. I wear a brave face. I put on a smile, and I can easily make small talk with folks, but really getting to know me takes time. There are few people, who I’ve felt confident I can be my whole self with. That I could show my weaknesses to, and who I explicitly trusted never ever would use their knowledge of where I hurt the most, to turn and inflict maximum damage upon me. Despite this urge to protect myself, I’ve still managed to welcome in people I never should’ve. I’ve chosen to overlook clear and glaring warnings, that signaled serious potential danger lie ahead. I’ve made excuses for some unbelievably cruel things, done by people I repeatedly convinced myself truly cared about me, and about what they’d done to me. I’d tell myself, that wasn’t who they are. I knew who they were, and whatever choices lead them to threaten or to damage me and my family, those were involuntary responses to trauma that was never their fault. If I just love them enough. If I refuse to let go, no matter how hard they might push me, they’ll change. I forgave, time and time and time again. What in the hell is wrong with me, that I can be so utterly shocked when they ripped out my heart, and proceeded to trample over it?

None of this was what I came here to say, though. What I really hope to convey, is this sense of peace I’ve grown to feel. I’m not angry, anymore. I’m not broken. I’m not lost. I was keenly aware of the rain clouds that hung over me, and followed me everywhere I went. For far longer than I’d ever imagined possible, those clouds prevented the warmth and light that the sunshine brings. They blocked it from anyone who stood near me, too. I felt so guilty, for dimming the light over every single person around me. I’ve quit carrying that shame, and blaming myself for needing someone. The truth is, there are times when we’re stuck inside a terrible storm. Sometimes, we all just need someone to love us enough to come sit with us, in the rain. It’s inside the most unbearable place I’ve ever been trapped within, that I found the greatest sources of strength. I don’t need everyone to love me. I can’t do it alone, though. I have so many people, who stayed with me, through that dark and difficult time. My focus is on them, and that truth, rather than the hurt generated from rhetoric and lies. Not even this incredible series of unfortunate events have defined which paths I’m allowed to take. No person possesses the power to determine the future which I’m entitled to strive towards. My spirit cannot be broken, stolen, or destroyed. I’ve spent time with God, everyday, over the last several months. I discovered that, not only does He speak to me, I can hear Him. Not “hear”, as in an auditory voice being spoken. (Don’t worry, I haven’t suddenly developed schizophrenia.) It’s the way I’ve seen Him guide my thoughts, revealing things I’d never have otherwise understood. My most recent example of what I’m talking about, was last week. I was driving, alone in my car, listening as my stereo played all my favorite treble, mid, and bass notes, in one of the songs from my “favorites” playlist. It occurred to me that heaven probably doesn’t play songs like that one, over their speakers. I felt a pang of sadness, about that. Immediately, a verse I’d vaguely known from the Bible, sprung into my mind. When I was a child, I thought as a child. I behaved as a child. When I became a man, I put away childish things. Then, I thought of the things I loved, as a child. I don’t crank up songs like “baby shark”, or the theme song from a show about a puppet named “Lambchop”, that forever goes “this is the song that doesn’t end. Yes it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they’ll continue singing it forever just because…” As great as that music was to my little ears, it certainly isn’t my style, now that I’m grown. That’s exactly how so many of my questions about finding pleasure in Heaven, without things I’ve enjoyed here, were so perfectly answered for me, in that one simple explanation. It all began to make sense. That is how God talks to me, and it’s a comfort that I’m incapable of describing.

I’ve been working on my relationship with Christ, but also with my family and my friends. I’ve reacquainted myself with my husband, in ways I hadn’t done in awhile. His hands have reintroduced themselves to my behind, too. Although, mostly just in fun. I’ve spent a lot of time with my girls. It’s Summer break, so Mj and I hang out everyday. Mikayla got an internship, in Knoxville, over the Summer. She’s busy! We went down there, about a week ago, and spent the weekend with her. She’ll be home on Thursday, for a long weekend, over the fourth. We’ve got plans to go out boating, with some friends. Then, we’re going to come back to our house to swim in the pool, bbq some supper, and then set off some fireworks, along with the neighborhood. I’m looking forward to it, a lot!

I know I’ve gone on a few long hiatuses, over the years, and I really do apologize for being MIA, with no explanation. I’m trying to navigate through the messes. As much as I sometimes do want to defend myself and my family, I refuse to aim the spotlight over onto someone else’s ugly mess. Even if it reveals who’ve actually been responsible for them, and could clear me and mine of an undeserved blame for it. That’s another big lesson I’ve learned, out of a long and difficult journey, through the hardest season of my life. Even if I can’t fully comprehend what or where I’m meant to go next, or how any of this might one day make sense to me, I know I’m not alone. I trust that one day, sooner or later, all the pieces will fit, and I’ll look back with gratitude for something beautiful that could come out of even the most painful things I’ve endured. I found myself on a ship that was sinking. We searched for something to keep us afloat. Then, we spent long days, praying for rescue that didn’t seem to be coming. So, we swam. And we swam. And we swam some more. When we finally got out of that ocean, we were exhausted and frail. The celebration, after we knew we’d made it onto the shore, wasn’t quite the “end”. As much of a relief as it was, we weren’t back home yet. What I’ve been up to, was about recovering. Finding my way back to my husband, my children, family, friends, and to Christ. They’ve all helped me to feel safe, again, and it’s with and through all of them that I was able to find myself. To reclaim my identity, and to be unapologetic about choosing to do so. I can breathe. I can relax. I can put down the sword and shield I’ve been carrying. I’m home, and I’m done feeling ashamed of having the courage to move on without the ones who didn’t believe in me.

Same boots by the door, same old street,
Same sunrise pulling me outta sleep.
I don’t talk about it like I used to do,
But I still feel everything too.
I learned how to sit in the quiet alone,
Let the nights pass without my phone.
Yeah, I bent, but I didn’t break,
Still standing here, still got faith.
I ain’t perfect, I ain’t brand new,
Just a little more honest, a little less bruised.
I’m still me, just a little more calm,
Still got a heart, still feel it when it’s gone.
I don’t love any less, I just love more slow,
I don’t chase what I already know.
I’ve been hurt, yeah, I’ve been changed,
But I didn’t lose myself in the pain.
I’m still me, if you’re wondering…
I’m still me.
I don’t need closure to sleep at night,
Don’t need answers to know I’m alright.
I let some things fall where they may,
Learned not everything’s mine to save.
I still believe in love that lasts,
Still believe in roots, not just the past.
If I give my heart, it’s still real,
Just a little more careful with how I feel.
I ain’t colder, I just grew

~Rhett Rivers

Call me superstitious. I suppose I am? Everyday, I’ve been wanting to write. I’ve thought of all the ways I might express what’s been whispering so frequently within me. It isn’t that I necessarily noticed, while I’ve been inside the moments. It’s only after, when the quiet comes. My mind replays these simple, yet oh so satisfying, bits and pieces of my day. I realize, I really am still me. The me I relegated to my past. The me my heart has ached for, grieved over, believing she was gone. She’s not, though. In fact, she never left me. I couldn’t entertain the notion that I might somehow manage to hold onto who I was, before. I’d been so convinced she could no longer exist, without those who helped to create her. I shied away from opportunities to shine, again. I hid from everyone, including myself. It was as if I woke up one day, and forgot to pick up the grief, hurt, guilt, shame, and regrets I’d carried everywhere I went, for such a long time. There was no plan, or intention. As I sat alone, pondering over what brought about those first glimpses of this person I remembered, I realized I’d left my mask behind. Slowly, and then suddenly, I gave up on hiding myself away. I said fuck it. And ya know, I feel good. Great, even. I question the idea of celebrating my liberation, though. Will I regret admitting this, now? Is it stupid to be announcing to the world, here I am, come and get me? I’m not sure of the answers to those questions. Well, maybe I am. Maybe, I simply don’t give a shit anymore, about the opinions of anyone who feels somehow threatened by my mere existence. Angry or annoyed, because I just won’t give in, and give up. Well, fuck ‘em, I say! Because, I actually like me, and so do plenty of other people! They appreciate my silly, my sour, my sweet. They looked for me. They asked about me. They couldn’t find me. There’s only one person who could, and all along, that person was myself.

It isn’t easy to explain, but I really and truly, sincerely, am finding joy. I’m bringing it everywhere I go, these days. It’s spreading, too. My husband, my babies, my family and friends, they feel it. I’m downright goofy. I stayed up until the wee hours of morning, making ridiculous TikTok videos with my girls. We laughed til we cried. I don’t even have to choose, or force, or fake, happiness. It’s just, there. Today. I picked my sister, and my little niece, up from the airport. We spent the day talking, giggling, telling stories. I played with my niece. I read her a bedtime story, and got lots of sweet hugs and kisses, from her. Tomorrow, we’re all going to my dad’s house. It’s going to be another beautifully amazing day, filled with the joy that comes naturally, when you’re surrounded by light, love, and laughter.

Adam’s been working, a lot, lately. He’s got a new side hustle he’s been building, alongside one of his friends, and it’s growing. While that’s fantastic, I’m well acquainted with the demands of creating something profitable, and my incredibly goal oriented, driven husband gives so much of his time and energy, when he’s working to build up things he believes in. He leaves the house before sunrise, at least 6 days a week, these days. Then, he finally arrives back home, well after sunset. Some nights, after bedtime even. As tempting as it is, to persuade him to slow down, to take a break, all that accomplishes is arguments. So, I’m doing my best to be supportive. I know what motivates him, and that’s always his desire to provide for his family. I rub his shoulders, keep his supper warm, and leave my body ready and willing for him! He’s staying home with us, tomorrow, so he can spend the day enjoying time with everyone too. I know he’s sleeping, now. I can always hear the way his breathing changes, when he collapses on the couch, and drifts into the rest he so clearly needs. I should sleep, too. I only slept for a couple hours, last night, and it’s almost midnight. Time to bring my exhausted husband to bed, so we’re both ready for tomorrow’s shenanigans.

I also made a few videos, recently. Just some things I’ve been doing, in my kitchen. I’m going to leave one of them, here. I’ll do my best to share the others, and to keep writing, sharing, and spreading more of the pure unfiltered goodness I’ve been so overwhelmed by.

https://youtu.be/QIJUtm2eH3w?si=x8Zkf5nHEYv6HjGJ

It won’t let me embed my link…so that’s the best I can do, tonight!

Sister cries out from her baby bed 
Brother runs in, feathers on his head 
Mama’s in her room learnin’ how to sew 
Daddy’s drinkin’ beer, listenin’ to the radio

Now, sisters usin’ rouge and clear complexion soap 
Brother’s wearin’ beads, and he smokes a lot of dope 
Mama is depressed, barely makes a sound 
Daddy’s got a girlfriend in another town

The south moves north, the north moves south 
A star is born, a star burns out 
The only thing that stays the same is 
Everything changes, everything changes

Time marches on
Time marches on,
Yeah, time marches on…

~Tracy Lawrence

And yet again, another year has come and gone. The clock struck midnight, fireworks boomed, Adam and I kissed. It’s 2026.

I made chili, and set out a tray, filled with cookies and candy, the kids and I made. We played board games, with friends.

Everyone has gone home, and I’m tired!

I think I’m actually looking forward to this new year. It’s just incredible, how much change comes with the passage of so relatively little time. Sometimes, it’s gradual, and we hardly even notice it. Others, not so much. Some change is deliberate, some is accidental, and some change is thrust upon us. We don’t have to like it, God knows I’m no great fan of it, but eventually what’s new grows to become normal. We’re all so wired for resilience. It’s amazing what we can get accustomed to, with just a little time. With some patience, we persevere. I’ve accepted the place I’m at, now. With quiet anticipation, I welcome the new year. In spite of my apprehension, in those long, difficult steps to get here, I’ve arrived at what feels like a place I can be okay in. Scratch that. A place I will be okay in. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll love it here. One thing I understand all too well, wherever I’m at, whether it resembles a nightmare or a pleasant daydream, I won’t be there for all that long. So, take comfort in that knowledge, when life gets hard. And, cherish the moments that bring joy. Both are fleeting, because time really does “march on”, regardless.

Happy New Year, y’all. I’m going to bed! Maybe I’ll get lucky?

I’ve been sitting in the deep end 
Confiding into my demons that I’ve neglected healing 
I’ve been chasing this version of me that I’ve been hating
Years wasted mistakes I feared that I’m making and it’s a

Hard swallow that lingers and stings 
When you’re screaming out but nothing’s leaving your teeth 
And the bottle’s heavier the more that I drink 
I tried everything on my knees…

I’ve been giving so many second chances 
Circumstances, relationships that are damaged 
And now I’m making, my mask can’t carry this weight 
I’ve been so ashamed, okay not being okay

And it’s a hard swallow that lingers and stings 
When you overlook flowers to dwell on the weeds 
And I can’t point my fingers when my fingers aren’t clean 
It’s on me, there’s just one thing I need

Somebody take me to church

Somebody take me to church, I need to find peace 
Accepting my wrongdoings are part of what’s me 
If you’re up there, send a sign to see 
I lost myself, I need something to believe 
Somebody take me to church

~Coey Redd

This song was frequently featured on a playlist I titled simply, It Hurts. My favorite line, in that song, is the one I put in bold. And it’s a hard swallow, that lingers and stings, when you overlook flowers just to dwell on the weeds. I’ve got another playlist titled, Bad Days. There’s one titled Cornhole Nights. One called Faves. One called For My Babies. To name just a fraction of my many playlists! I’m not exaggerating, when I say, music is my way of bookmarking throughout my life’s story. There are lyrics that often express so perfectly exactly what I can’t, or shouldn’t. It’s therapy, for me, to get in my car and crank my music up loud. It’s a very big part of how I heal, but not only that. Music is for celebrating, for motivation, for pretty much any and every occasion imaginable, really. I made a little sign that says, Some days I want the music, some days I need the lyrics, and it’s absolutely accurate.

I watched my Apple Music 2025 replay, and it’s so interesting. Looking back to last year’s, and comparing it to this one. My song choices have documented this journey I’ve been on. It defines so clearly my ups and downs, as I’ve walked through the past couple of years. Something as “mundane” as my music review, at the end of the year, truly has shown me just how far I’ve come. I went from being inside the darkest place, only finding sporadic and limited moments that didn’t hurt, to where I’m at now. There were not so bad days, and sometimes days I could even call good. I’d begin to feel like maybe the worst ones were behind me, only to once again wind up back inside the oppressive darkness I’d briefly escaped. For awhile, I honestly didn’t think there was any reason to keep fighting to get out. I was critically low on hope needed to fuel the determination to continue. It seemed that everything that had mattered had either been taken, or it was only a matter of time until what was left would be. The frustration that comes, feeling entirely powerless against forces much stronger than I was, it left me nearly empty. Void of any emotions at all. I grew to be somewhat reckless, as it just didn’t seem to make a difference whether I did or didn’t do things. What was going to happen, was. I had no control over my own life, and no one could take things from me if there was nothing left to take. It was within that radical “indifference” that I discovered it was, in fact, possible for even more profound damage and hurt to find me. I nearly walked away from Adam, in the midst of that indifference. I’d given up on not only myself and the possibility for a meaningful future, but on our ability to build the fire necessary to sustain our marriage and our family. It was from there, that I made the decision to stop overlooking flowers to dwell on the weeds. Somewhere deep inside me, I found the strength to hold on, when letting go was somehow more comforting than the thought of spending another day with this death grip on something already collapsing. Every single thing depended on what it was that both Adam and I did next. I was done being sorry and miserable. I was not going to continue taking responsibility for choices that were never my own, or for what resulted from them. As for the parts and pieces that were mine and our burden, we’d done enough apologizing for our mistakes. I would no longer allow anyone to dictate when, if, and how I’d get up off my knees. I’m not ashamed of the person I was, nor am. Not anymore. I’m not proud of every single choice I’ve made in life, but I do know exactly where my heart was and is. My motives have never been ugly. My intentions have always been well meaning. My mistakes and my failures are not born of selfish desires, fulfilled by the price of causing irreparable harm to those closest to me. I’m better than that. I’ll not stay down, riddled by guilt and shame, while any other person casts stones at me or my family. I will hold my head up, do my very best to keep far away from those who cannot be trusted, and I’m finished with being afraid of anything they might still manage to throw in my direction. Each step forward is another step out and away from the horrible place I spent so long in. Being happy doesn’t mean I’m never sad. Healing doesn’t mean there won’t be scars. But, I am happy and healing. I understand things will forever look different, but different does not have to mean worse. I’m better, in spite of everything.

I have a few friends, from where I had worked. I’m especially close with one of them, Brittany. On Christmas, we each shared some photos, and wished each other Merry Christmas. That evening, she had sent me a text asking if she could call me. I told her, of course! She was upset and crying, when I answered her phone call. Her family’s as far from perfect as anyone else’s, and there’d been some unexpected drama, on a day supposed to have been a fun and relaxing one, for her, with them. She was hurt and disappointed, frustrated and feeling alone. So, she called me. I listened, offered my best advice, and then said some silly things that made us both giggle. We updated each other on all the latest gossip, and made plans to get together for lunch, on Monday. Before we hung up, she told me love you! I hear those words often, from Adam, my kids, and my family, but it hits different coming from a relatively new friend. I matter to a friend. I’m someone that somebody can count on. Somebody who’s only known me as this version of myself, in the time since who I used to be was dismantled. I’m not just putting myself back together, I am. I am a whole person. I’m not merely my broken pieces. I’ve stitched together the parts I salvaged from before, but with new pieces sewn into the me that people like my friend Brittany know. And, ya know what? I’m enough. Here’s somebody who values who I am, today. Not someone who’s waiting for me to be more like the person I was, but who sees and knows, and can even love this me. I’m giving myself permission to love me, too.

I really and truly am genuinely content in my own skin again, thanks to my family and friends like Brittany. ♥️

And my last name 
Is a whole lot bigger than I thought it’d be 
A lotta things changed 
Except one thing, me

I’m still the same old redneck fuck, don’t give a damn 
Ain’t afraid to throw a dead buck on my Instagram 
Grain alcohol in my cup, got the whole house 
Wall to wall and I still ain’t sold out 
Wall to wall and I still ain’t sold out

Middle finger to the sky ’til I’m gone and dead 
.44 in the Ford for the copperheads 
Alcohol in my cup, got the whole house 
Wall to wall and I still ain’t sold out

~Hardy

This year, Christmas was just perfect. It was sweet, silly, and a whole lot of fun.

I’d seen a trend on TikTok, awhile back. Everyone was pretending to receive a basic garden rock, indistinguishable from any other, as a gift. I formed a plan, with Mikayla, for Christmas morning. She and I grabbed a rock, from the backyard, and wrapped it up. We recorded me opening it, feigning excitement and surprise, and then Adam’s reaction to this. It was hilarious!

Immediately prior to opening my “gift”, from Mikayla, I’d opened the one Adam had under the tree, for me. I was absolutely stunned! My husband’s never been much for big romantic gestures. This was the most unexpected gift I could’ve ever gotten, from him! Inside an envelope, he’d made a fake “boarding pass”, with my name on it. Behind that, was a letter from him. He wrote incredibly thoughtful words to me, explaining exactly why he wanted to do this for me. He’s sending me, along with my girls, on a “girls trip”, to anywhere I want to go. He’d already talked with my sister about coming with us, and will fly her out to wherever it is we decide to go. As much as the actual gift means to me, it wasn’t what brought me to tears. I was so moved by his words in the letter, and the effort he put into giving me something special.

When he saw the tears in my eyes, and I climbed into his lap, I wasn’t the only one with teary eyes. I could see how much love he’d poured into me, through this gift.

The tears after opening Adam’s present definitely helped “sell” the rock gag gift I opened right after!

We had family and friends over, Christmas afternoon and evening. I made my big breakfast casserole, and we had a tray filled with candy and cookies to snack on. We played games. We laughed a lot. I decided to put a twist on our “white elephant” gift exchange, this year. I passed out $1001 in Monopoly money, to each person. I held up each wrapped gift, and everyone “bid” on them. After the last one was “sold”, whoever still had the most cash leftover, got a bonus surprise gift.

I genuinely couldn’t have imagined this happiness and joy would be possible, again. It absolutely was and is, though. I’m finding myself doing a whole lot more thanking God, with a grateful heart, rather than pleading with Him. The relief in realizing that healing really is possible, even now, even for me, is overwhelming. I’ve never hurt so badly, for so long. I had never experienced true hopelessness, like I did. I felt utterly worthless, and much more like a burden. One thing I’ve learned, among many others, is that there will be some who fight to keep me on my knees. As I attempted to stand, and regain my balance, I’d be shoved back to the ground. It takes a whole lot of courage and determination to keep getting back up. I’m much stronger, now. I’m standing ten toes down, and fuck anybody who doesn’t like it. Fuck em all. I’ve got an army beside me, and thanks to the war we’ve been through, we’re a hell of a lot tougher than anything thrown at us, now. I’m not going to wage any wars on anyone. I’m much too busy celebrating with my people.

Do you remember me?
I sat upon your knee
I wrote to you
With childhood fantasies

Well, I’m all grown-up now
Can you still help somehow?
I’m not a child
But my heart still can dream

So here’s my lifelong wish
My grown-up Christmas list
Not for myself
But for a world in need

What is this illusion called
The innocence of youth?
Maybe only in our blind belief
Can we ever find the truth

There’d be
No more lives torn apart
That wars would never start
And time would heal all hearts
Every man would have a friend
That right would always win
And love would never end
This is my grown-up Christmas list

~David Foster

Today is the eve of Christmas Eve. I’m not quite sure I’ll be able to find the right words, here. I think I’m supposed to be consumed by the pangs of sadness that do sometimes wash over me. Especially during the holidays. I’m not, though. I’m doing alright.

I really needed to take a break. I needed to step back from my need to express the overwhelming emotions that cycled through me. Some days were made of mostly anger. Some grief, and a hurt I can’t begin to describe. Some days, I wanted to scream out to the whole world, telling everyone exactly how much malice lies within those feigning innocence. The denials I’ve heard, while I kept quiet about what I actually knew, understanding there was no way of them knowing just how many of their secrets and lies had been exposed to me. So much I’d seen and heard, for myself. There’s simply no way to escape the truth, even when it breaks your heart. Even when you believed you’d buried it deep enough where no one would ever find it.

Instead, I let go. I don’t need recompense, retribution, or to retaliate. None of those things can change what was and is now. My marriage reached a crisis point, a few months ago. Adam and I couldn’t even find ourselves, let alone each other. If something didn’t change, and soon, our relationship would also fall into disrepair. So, I decided to let go of things I’m powerless myself to erase, change, undo, redo, and stop from happening. I put my energy into what it is that I can do. I went to God. I forgave, and I asked Him for forgiveness.

Slowly, at first, things began to change. Until, one day, it was as if my world had gone from dreary black and white, to bright and vivid colors again. I can honestly say, I don’t give a damn what anyone else says or thinks. I can’t forget, but I also won’t survive if all I do is remember. I’m choosing to find the good, and to rejoice in it. I’m truly happy, for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. For me, contentment equals happiness. Not living in regret and fear, but for today. Giving love to those sat around me, today.

Things with my husband are starting to feel a lot like they did, before. I’m learning to trust in him, while he’s learning to trust in himself.

Today, I’ve been baking all kinds of cookies and candies. I’ve got my favorite Christmas music playlist on. I’ve got all the gifts wrapped. I’m giggling with my girls. I’m excited for Adam to get home from work, this evening, and to spend the rest of this week with my family.

Merry Christmas, y’all ♥️

Ay, I got homies that I love to death I’ll never see again
I lost my brother as a youth, that man was like my only friend

…
And ever since I fought depression I feel like I never win, but I’m content
Battlin’ these demons, laughing at my weakness, I repent
Try not to act a heathen, pray before I sleep, and don’t resent
My opps for any reason, I was always deep, and my regrets
Will one day set me free, I know right where I’ll be

When I wake up I wash away my sins and hop up out the shower
Dry my body as I ask forgiveness of the higher power
Tell the Lord I know he know I’m weak and demons, they devour
All the positives I manifest get eaten in an hour

I won’t represent bandanas unless it’s made outta Louie
So depressed deep down inside, I try to shine by rockin’ jewelry
Caught some charges, they got dropped, but it don’t change how people view me
All the people that I lost is what it cost to make the new me

~New Me (FJ Outlaw)

If you See me in the streets understand I got a strap 

I aint even got a lay a word I’m thuggin

Slanging that wood hot damn paul bunyan 

I aint gotta bike but I’m constantly stuntin

Got Os in the back of the deal like Onions 

Coolin in a louis bandanna

Pourin that mud in a orange cream fanta

Groupies tryna fuck but them hoes be outta luck 

Because you can’t touch this like MC hammer

Way from out the country you can’t even understand her

Everywhere I go you know I fucking keep a hammer 

Cuz I’m killin shit for real motherfuckers they say a lot 

I say my prayers

And I go to sleep 

And I toss and turn because of who I used to be 

As I live my life 

And I try to be 

Who momma raised but I just can’t catch it’s so deep 

Please stop asking for the old me 

Because I swear that you don’t me 

You don’t want to call the police

I don’t want to make your throats bleed

When I was young my PaPaw told me 

I can’t let nobody hold me

Please stop asking for the 

Load together unloaded

You know the pistol is holding your pictures

If I pull it out Ima blow it 

And I don’t need 100 I know Ima hit cha

Its felony I’m parolling

I’m crimin schemin and planning to take over planets 

With all that I am

I’m Trying to get rich for the fam

And once I finish I’m going to hell and 

I say my prayers

And I go to sleep 

Old Me (FJ Outlaw)

I should feel “lighter”. I convinced myself the heaviest things I’ve carried, over the last year and a half, were the very things I no longer have to hold. The legal worries, lawyer fees, and the uncertainty around all that bullshit, are over. All the stress of not knowing, wondering whether my husband would be seen for the man I’ve known all along he is. Wondering if we’ll have enough money, time, or even enough motivation left to fight. That battle is over, and yet, things are still so heavy. I won’t claim we won, because there simply is no winning here. We didn’t lose even more, though. We can keep what’s left. I know I should be grateful…

I saw someone describe a lesson from eagles and crows. He said, crows dare to peck at the eagle. They’ll scream and torment the eagle, but the eagle doesn’t respond to the crow. Instead, he spreads his wings and flies. As the crow clings to the eagle’s back, incessantly pecking at him, the eagle elevates. He climbs higher, and eventually, the arrogant crow gasps and tumbles. The crow runs out of oxygen, as the air thins up there. The eagle knows he can breathe just fine, and the crow won’t be able to. The crow actually knows it, too. The crow becomes so focused on its torment of the eagle, it doesn’t realize until it’s too late. I’m sure I want to be like the eagle, but fuck it’s hard sometimes. I possess enough information to cast my crows into their own pits of hell. I could perch on a tree limb, and watch their panic and desperation, as they reckon with the realization of not only where they’re trapped now, but who put them there, and why. Some days, the temptation to do exactly that, nearly overwhelms my determination not to. My struggle is complicated, because to defend myself and my husband, would also reveal truths that will certainly ensure our crows find themselves stuck in the very traps they once built for me. The thing is, I understand that, as tempting as it can be, the satisfaction I’m imagining will never manifest. Instead, I have to keep looking up. I will not allow myself to give into my desires for retribution. I will not lower myself to the sort of standards those crows can live by. I will retain something no one else can ever take from me, my soul. My convictions in my faith remind me of who I am. I won’t have to hurt my crows. Their foolish pride has already begun to send them where they’re going. I truly hope, when they do get there, I’ve resolved this lingering anger. I don’t want to be the kind of person who laughs as crows hit the ground with a satisfying thud. I’d like to be so far removed, when that happens, I will neither know nor care about the outcome of a crow’s foolish choices.

Oh, they tell me of a home far beyond the skies,
Oh, they tell me of a home far away;
Oh, they tell me of a home where no storm clouds rise,
Oh, they tell me of an unclouded day.

Oh, the land of cloudless day,
Oh, the land of an unclouded sky,
Oh, they tell me of a home where no storm clouds rise,
Oh, they tell me of an unclouded day.

Oh, they tell me of a home where my friends have gone,
Oh, they tell me of that land far away,
Where the tree of life in eternal bloom
Sheds its fragrance through the unclouded day.

Oh, they tell me of a King in His beauty there,
And they tell me that mine eyes shall behold
Where He sits on the throne that is whiter than snow,
In the city that is made of gold.

Oh, they tell me that He smiles on His children there,
And His smile drives their sorrows all away;
And they tell me that no tears ever come again
In that lovely land of unclouded day.

~Audra Mae & The Forest Rangers

(Written by Josiah K. Allwood, published 1885)

I’m not really sure how or where to begin, here.

Last Wednesday, September 10, Mj and I had taken our cat (Gary) for an appointment at the vet. Afterward, we stopped at PetCo. As we were giggling about the variety of catnip options, and the hilarious way they labeled them, a news alert made my phone ding, and my Apple Watch buzzed. I looked at my watch, and saw the headline, “President Trump announces death of Charlie Kirk”. I audibly gasped, and Mj asked me what happened? I read her the headline I’d just read. I don’t know if it was shock, or whether I’m actually just a shitty human, but we finished our shopping, went for coffee at our favorite spot, and then went home. Awhile later, my sister text me, to ask if I’d heard the news about Charlie Kirk. I had forgotten. I mean, I didn’t forget that I’d been made aware, back at PetCo. I just, somehow, completely blocked it out. Only after my sister reminded me, did I begin to search for more information. Within minutes, I saw what would haunt my mind for I’m still not sure how long, because it’s still stuck on repeat inside my memory. I can’t make it stop. I didn’t know Charlie Kirk. I’d seen conversations he’d had over the years, on podcasts. My opinions on his opinions, frankly, have not one fucking thing to do with the fact that he was assassinated. Murdered brutally, in front of the world, and in front of his wife and their babies. I’ve got zero tolerance for anyone who attempts to justify taking a man’s life, over his political or religious beliefs. I’m horrified to see the sheer amount of hatred and callousness being spread in the supposed name of tolerance, democracy, or whatever bullshit excuses the most wretched of people are giving. I’m beyond disgusted. It’s induced a fury within me. Anger that I’m praying for God to quell, before I do or say the UN-Christian things being provoked from me. I truly used to believe most people were good. I’m not convinced, anymore. We’ve lost our humanity. We’re a bunch of fools. Like animals, caged and bored, so we just slaughter and devour one another.

I need to go and “touch grass”, as they say. Stay away from the cesspool located inside the World Wide Web, for awhile. I swear, I’m gonna wind up being one of those people standing on a street corner, holding up a sign that reads, REPENT! The end is near! Because, to tell the truth, I’m genuinely beginning to think they’re not the crazy ones. It’s people like me, who wander through life as if monsters aren’t lurking around damn near every single corner.

RIP Charlie Kirk. RIP to all victims of this senseless depravity by the hands of far too many people who seem to readily embrace it. I’m sick and tired of making myself weak, attempting to avoid offending others. I need God right now, to help me to choose the right words to speak. I’m so damn overwhelmed by a seething anger, with a heap of hopelessness thrown on top. I’m not sure how to make a real difference, right now. I want to, though.

This mornin’ I got up at 6:01
I walked out and saw the rising sun
And I drank it in like whiskey
I saw a tree I’ve seen a thousand times

A bird on a branch and
I watched it fly away in the wind
And it hit me
It’s a beautiful world sometimes I don’t see so clear

Some days you just breath in
Just try to break even
Sometimes your heart’s
Poundin’ out of your chest

Sometimes it’s just beatin’
Some days you just forget
What all you’ve been given
Yeah, some days you just get by

And some days you’re just alive
Some days you’re livin’

Like you never die
Blue’s a little bluer up in the sky
You’re high’s a little high
You feel that fire you’ve been missing
Some days you’re living

~Dierks Bentley

Well, July was another rollercoaster ride of a month, but we made it through. Here we are, in August. School has began, again. We moved Mikayla down to Knoxville, for her Sophomore year of college. Brooklyn is just planning to take some online classes, and continue to work. Mj had her first day back to school, yesterday.

A few weeks ago, I got what is the scariest phone call I’ve ever received, to now. Someone from the office at Adam’s work called me just after noon, on a Friday. As soon as I saw the name of his work on my screen, my heart dropped. I immediately knew, Adam was hurt, and it was bad enough that he wasn’t able to be the one to inform me. His colleague told me that paramedics were with Adam, after he’d been found unconscious out on the yard of another job site. He gave me the name of the hospital they’d be taking Adam to, and I raced there. When I arrived, Adam was awake, but very disoriented. They ran a bunch of tests, an MRI, and had an IV pumping fluids quickly into him. His heart rate was incredibly high, too. In the 140’s when I got there. They determined he’d passed out of heat exhaustion. He also had a concussion from hitting his head when he’d collapsed. He had a couple of nasty gashes on his head. He was going to be okay, though.

B had an appointment, with her orthopedic surgeon, recently. She’s healing and doing amazing. He says she will need to avoid running or jumping for a whole year, but is otherwise cleared to do regular activity.

We made pudgie pies, on Mikayla’s birthday.

Adam’s mom has been having terrible headaches, that pain meds don’t help. Her doctors are concerned her cancer has spread into her brain.

I sometimes get emotionally exhausted, and I can’t even talk through all the reasons why. I just need to be alone, and process by myself. I go for drives, every now and then. I get in my car, heading anywhere but here. I crank up my music, and let myself get mad, sad, and finally, I feel a little bit better.

I went on a drive, the other day. When I got home, Adam and I went out back and played cornhole. Some of the heaviness, from the weight of all the things I’d carried around, had lifted. I’m notorious for allowing my worries to pile up, as I attempt to keep moving so no one else notices. Eventually, it always reaches a point where I realize I’m about to collapse under the pressure. I have an overwhelming urge to flee, in those moments. To run far and fast from all the people who might see me so weak and tired. As soon as I’ve sorted through all the piles of shit I’d been holding onto, and lightened my load, I want nothing more than to return to my family, knowing I can enjoy and participate. I can contribute something meaningful, again.

It’s a “cool” 97 degrees, outside, but I’ve started putting my Summer decorations away, and replacing them with some Fall ones. I spent some time on FaceTime, with Mikayla. I washed windows and folded laundry. I picked up groceries, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, and mopped floors. I’ve got music playing. I decided it was time to sit down for a few minutes, and write here.

Some folks whispered, some folks talked
But everybody looked the other way
And when time ran out there was no one about
On Independence Day

Now I ain’t sayin’ it’s right or it’s wrong
But maybe it’s the only way
Talk about your revolution
It’s Independence Day

Let freedom ring, let the white dove sing
Let the whole world know that today
Is a day of reckoning
Let the weak be strong, let the right be wrong
Roll the stone away, let the guilty pay
It’s Independence Day

~Martina McBride

I play music nearly every waking moment of my days. It helps me through the hardest times. It motivates me, when I have shit to do. It plays in the background of practically every single memory, as it’s made. From the happiest celebrations, to quiet reflection when I’m alone, to the toughest goodbyes, I’ve got playlists for every occasion. There’s song lyrics able to express exactly what I’m feeling, always. My anger, hurt, and sadness practically screamed out through its lyrics, Today, this song has morphed into an anthem expressing my acceptance. Grasping even the harshest realities by no means equates to gratitude over them. It simply confirms that I do, in fact, possess the strength and courage to keep going, in spite of things I truly believed I’d never recover from. I was never more convinced of my inability to survive, or just how unworthy I was of healing. I don’t say that flippantly, either. It’s absolutely the truth. Until one day, with time, I realized I’d begun to actually see that what seemed so obviously impossible was suddenly possible. Possibilities I’m discovering myself embracing, because I refuse to continue on accepting that the cruelty, contempt, and pain are exactly what I deserve. Nobody knows my heart, my intentions, or motivations, better than I do. What anyone thinks of me just isn’t my business, if the truth they choose to accept of who and what I am is formed based on lies. Someone willing to condemn me, while refusing to consider who I’ve always shown them I am, cannot possibly claim to have loved me. If it was easy to trust the deceit filled words of another, carelessly able to betray those who’ve only tried to give them love and support…I can’t have mattered very much. Sure, I could seek retribution, but why? What exactly would be the point? Proving myself to anyone requiring evidence that I’m not a monster, what purpose would that serve? If you’re so easily persuaded, and I’m so easily dismissed, I really don’t deserve you. I will not fight to include anyone in my life, who’s blatantly shown me exactly how much they valued me, my word, my actions and opinions, our experiences, promises, expectations, and especially my family. I won’t again make myself vulnerable to anybody capable of exploiting those vulnerabilities, with virtually no concern for the damage that causes. Eventually, truth seems to have a way of making itself known. Its acceptance honestly seems utterly unimportant to me, anymore, from any one unwilling to take the time to search it out, or to have bothered to give me any benefit of doubt in the meantime.

Please don’t mistake my sentiment as attempts to throw a pity party of one, here. I’m much stronger than before. I don’t need or want sympathy, condolences, or apologies. All I want, is to cling tightly onto what’s left here with me. To live without fear. I’m tired of glancing carefully over my shoulder, anytime I begin to feel safe. Checking for knives aimed at my back, held by hands I used to trust. I’m utterly exhausted from all the energy I’ve wasted on vain attempts to preserve fruits that rotted long ago. I only reflect on my past, so that I can better prepare for my future. A gangrenous limb must be amputated. The only options are to do so, or to allow the infection to spread over my entire body, ensuring my own destruction. I’m hoping to more clearly recognize the symptoms, before I’m forced to cut off anything more.

It’s Independence Day, and I’m finally beginning to feel free. I truly will die on my feet, before I’d live on my knees.

Happy Birthday, United States of America 🇺🇸

One year older, wiser. And, so am I.

It’s the joy of Grandma laughin’
And Grandpa’s funny jokes
It’s the rumble of those ol’ baseball cards
Flappin’ between the spokes
It’s a Fourth of July picnic
It’s farm-made and rock and roll
From town to town
You can hear the sound of the American soul

Oh, say can you see
Flag that you wave
Freedom ain’t free
In the home of the brave
It’s the roots and the boots
From the hard hat to the steel toe
It’s the hustle and bustle
Blood, sweat, and tears that build the backbone
Of the American Soul

~Aaron Watson

I picked up my Mj, yesterday. We got her a direct flight, from KC to Nashville. It was her first time ever flying all alone. Even though her older sisters had done it, since they were much younger than Mj, I was still anxious about it. She did great, though. She regaled me with all the stories of her adventures, over the past two weeks. She’s become quite the expert at dirt biking. Yikes.

I truly am so glad she was able to go and spend time with her grandma, uncles, and cousins. She’s got memories she’ll carry with her always.

Today, Mj and I went and got some Dutch Bros iced coffees, and went to the grocery store. I always seem to come home with much more than anticipated, anytime I bring along my husband or kids. We had fun, though. I’ve got meatloaf in the oven, for supper. It’s a much cooler 88 degrees outside, right now. We had temps over 100, all the past week. I’m probably the only person who isn’t complaining about those heat waves! I just love everything Summer brings, even the hot weather.

We’re going to Poppy’s, on the Fourth. I’ve got everything to make Mj and my annual “flag cake”, and Jell-O shots.

Things at my house are pretty much what’s grown to become our normal. I’m enjoying the quiet joy that the consistency brings me. Looking at the smiling happy faces that surround me is where I find my peace. Life isn’t quite so hard to do, these days. Everyday, I flip my daily calendar over. For years, I’ve had the same one. I flip the calendar over, and I now think to myself, look how far I’ve come. That’s a very welcome change, from an entire year of mornings flipping those same calendar pages and wishing I could go back. Instead, I now feel grateful I’ve gone forward.

I’m okay as fuck, today.

Before this battlefield
We were on our way to better days
Rolling like a freight train with no brakes into the future like we had it made

I can see the smoke rolling off your gun
And them lips tellin’ me we’re done
Sometimes some of them shots you just can’t outrun

When you’re living in a warzone
With a heart full of bullet holes and boarded up windows
We’ve been riding out this storm for way too long

How we gonna call this house a home
Living in a warzone

~Bailey Zimmerman

Adam went into work for awhile, this morning. After he got home, I cleaned out both of our fridges, and Adam loaded the back of his truck up with things to take to recycling, and then to the dump. Our garage was full of Amazon boxes, and we just recently got a new mattress for our bed. I had loved the one we’d had, but it was losing its appeal after having it for over eight years. One night, I’d tossed and turned, attempting to finally get comfortable, but to no avail. Adam had woke up to me sitting up in bed, with my head resting on my knees. The next morning, I texted him and asked “Can I buy a new mattress?” I got an immediate response from him that said simply, “Yes”. Beings I’d already anticipated that would be his reply, I’d already spent a couple hours researching. I sent him a few options I’d found. Of course, I knew which of them would be my first choice, but naturally my number one pick was the most expensive. I explained my reasons for each of the options I’d presented, and he surprised me by telling me to get the best one, because he wanted me to be able to sleep comfortably again! It took a few days for it to be delivered, and let me tell you, I’ve slept amazing ever since we got it! I only regret that I waited so long to replace our old one.

Adam hauled off our boxes, everything I’d cleaned out of our fridges, and our worn out old mattress. Where we live, there’s a specific recycling center to bring things like old mattresses and box springs. For a small fee, they’ll take them off our hands. Later, he got to be the “passenger prince”, when he came along with me to the grocery store. He almost always drives anywhere we go together, but every once in awhile I sneak into the driver’s seat before he can. We ended up goofing around, and picked up some unnecessary things, like the Reeces ice cream I grabbed and soft serve cookies and cream he wanted. He had the leftover pizza we still had from last night, and then I made us each a big bowl of the ice cream we brought home for ourselves.

I made a couple of craft projects, while I watched TV. I’d finished the reality show I’d been watching, and browsed Hulu, Netflix, Paramount Plus, Prime TV, and all the other various apps we subscribe to. I wound up settling on The Nanny. When I was a kid, I’d seen a few episodes, but never really watched since. I’m already totally invested! I absolutely love these old TV series. They don’t make much these days that’s anywhere near as good as old classics.

I’ve been listening to fireworks being lit all around our neighborhood. I can hardly believe it’s going to be the 4th already! I’m excited, this year. Last year was mostly a blur, for me. Trying to remember in any detail is like attempting to decipher the plot in a book with 2/3 of the pages missing. It’s as if the previous year was 12 entire months of one long cold winter. My very least favorite season. Dreary, cloudy, freezing, and trapped inside while doing my best to keep warm. I’m finally enjoying and even participating in my favorite time of year, this year.

Adam has babied the hell out of me, the last year. Even when I’m sassy, lashing out, or screwing up. He gives me so much grace. Mostly because he understands my harsh tone and words are an expression of my fears, hurt, and sadness. Misplaced emotions, being delivered to him, because there’s no one else I feel safe enough to fall apart with. He also carries guilt. He feels sorry for me, while blaming himself, even though I’ve never held him responsible for the shitstorm. To be completely honest, I do believe part of the reason for our mess lands on him. Not in the ways some people would think, though. He waited too long. He should’ve taken action much sooner. Maybe we could’ve prevented at least part of the mess. I wish he could’ve recognized the significance of many of the issues we’d been struggling with for far longer than the one evening when the pressure valve finally burst, and he could no longer pretend we weren’t in trouble. We’d been in over our heads, with behaviors we couldn’t manage, tolerate, or convince his son to change. We’d lost any semblance of power over what was happening far earlier than really either one of us would’ve admitted. It’s not as easy as you’d imagine, to admit. Part of me had heard alarm bells ringing for months. Part of me would also question the warning bells. He’s a boy, and boys aren’t always going to be like my girls in their actions, choices, or responses. Am I being too harsh? Do I tolerate things my girls do, but not him? Am I a good mom? Have I given him enough love? Do I weigh his actions heavier because I’m afraid he’ll wind up following in his birth mom’s footsteps? I’d argue with my persistent concerns, and insist his behaviors were still normal. Teenagers lie, after all. They can be rude, disrespectful, and particularly teen boys have been known to be aggressive at times. He’ll grow up, I told myself. Clearly, Adam was not the only one with his head buried in the sand. We both failed.

I’m going to sit here and watch one more episode of The Nanny. I didn’t intend to write the paragraph above, when I decided to write here tonight. It just sort of came out. It’s been a good day. I’ve felt pretty peaceful and content. I’m also very much looking forward to getting my sexy husband between my legs.

Certainly the most destructive vice, if you like

That a person can have, more than pride, is self-pity

I think self-pity is the worst possible emotion anyone can have

And the most destructive, it destroys everything around it, except itself

Self-pity will destroy relationships, it′ll destroy anything that’s good

It will fulfill all the prophecies it makes, and leave only itself

You gotta be the change that you wanna see

Looking for someone to blame? Who′s it gonna be?

Well, you could put it on me, ’cause nobody around here

Sees the man in the mirror any clearer than I do

And I can bring the pain if you wanna beef

One of us is gonna break, who’s it gonna be?

Well, it ain′t gonna be me

Ain′t no way I’m accepting defeat

I won′t stop ’til that reflection is me

You see, we on a journey, and journeys are made of choices

Choosing the directions of the paths we gonna take

So you can get pissed off whenever you get lost

And look at the driver, but then you see your own face

You can get right or you can get left

You can live life, or you can await death

Time is constantly giving us the present, every second, and every breath

It′s up to you, what you do with the gift

~Durte (Feat. Hard Target)

I learned something about myself, awhile ago. To my understanding, I’d never considered myself to have an eating disorder. I always thought they were perpetuated by a distorted body image. Eating disorders were for people who were skin and bones, but look in the mirror or stand on the scale, and cannot seem to ever be satisfied with their reflection. “Body dysmorphia” and all that. It was months ago, when I realized that wasn’t necessarily the case. Because I have easily recognized the clear contrast between me at a healthy weight, versus otherwise, I hadn’t once considered the possibility that I could actually have a problem categorized within the context of an eating disorder. It simply never occurred to me, until I was presented with a truth I’d never heard. Eating disorders are more clearly explained as a desperate desire for some form of control. When so much of your life feels out of control, the need to find some way, anything to convince yourself you’ve still got power, can be the foundation for unhealthy ways of coping. It isn’t that I don’t wish for a fuller face, bigger boobs, or the curves that a healthy weight brings me. It’s that my primal need for some feeling of control over my mind and body have become much more powerful and important. I decide what, when, and how much goes into my body. How quickly that can and has morphed into something very much resembling addiction, for me! I can’t stop. If I stop, I’ll lose the tiny fraction of control I’ve maintained throughout this chaos. It’s keeping me sane. It’s the only way I can possibly imagine surviving until tomorrow. The logical parts of me understand how destructive and ridiculous those thoughts are. There’s another part of me that’s dominated by my fear of giving up this last bit of choice I’ve got left. When so much of my own life seems to be a series of events I didn’t ask for, never wanted, and feel powerless against, what’s so wrong with hanging onto this one little scrap of control? After all, it’s only myself at risk. Doesn’t anybody understand, I’m already gone? What’s the point? Why should I give a shit about potential long term effects of doing what I’ve gotta do today that keeps me alive for tomorrow? I die now, or I die later. So leave me the fuck alone… That’s my logic, anyway.

Recently, my doctor had me get some lab work done. They took a bunch of my blood for testing. I received a list of concerns following those results. My iron is very low. Hemoglobin is very low. My vitamin D is very low. My vitamin B is low. My white blood cell count is low. My thyroid is completely fucked. My blood sugar is low. My blood pressure is nearly too low, but heart rate is high. My cardiac health is at risk…

I’ve got a problem, and logically, I know it. I haven’t figured out whether or what I’m going to do about it. I have acknowledged there’s something very broken in me. But, what else is new? I’m pretty sure that’s obvious. If I’m brutally honest, I suppose I’m just not able to give two shits about it. Not now. Not yet. When I’m not overwhelmed by chaos and uncertainty, incapable of trusting that there even will be a tomorrow, then maybe?

My give a fuck meter was so maxed out, for so long, I truly believe that for my very survival, I’ve largely ignored any and all things that normally should’ve given me concern. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s more like I don’t believe it matters whether I care or not. In fact, it almost seems the things I do care about are the first ones to fall apart. It doesn’t make a difference what I attempt to do to protect what matters to me. What’s going to happen is just…going to. I can hold my breath, with a death grip on the edge of my seat, or I can shout to the universe, fuck it. Do what you’re gonna do. It may sound ridiculous and strange, but I find relief in that.

When I was a little kid, I once drowned in a lake. Seriously. I was playing “chicken” with other kids, and I was underwater while a kid tried to climb onto my shoulders. I remember the panic, as I was running out of breath. I fought to get him off of me, but nobody knew I was panicking below the water. With incredible clarity, I remember letting go. Accepting that “breath” of lake water, knowing what it meant, and then the overwhelming sense of peace that followed. I was no longer afraid. It was a comfort I can’t describe. Next thing I remember, I was on the beach, throwing up lake water onto the sand. I think part of me has spent my life, most especially these tough times, longing for that feeling of comfort again. That’s the sort of relief I’m talking about, when I say it comes with letting go.

I don’t want to die. It’s actually the opposite. I want my life back! I so want up and out from the muddy waters I’ve been trapped beneath. I want to breathe in and back out again. I want to feel the warmth of the sun shining down on me, without becoming consumed with thoughts of all the reasons I don’t deserve it, or worries of potential storms looming. I’ve been trying real hard to just be present in the moments. Just last night, Adam was making me giggle so hard! I would laugh, and then he would grin and start laughing with me. He told me he hadn’t heard me giggle like that in who even knows how long. It made him so happy to see and hear my joy in that moment, erupting into those bursts of laughter. He tells me that’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Mikayla is working this evening. Brooklyn and Mj are still visiting Adam’s family, in Kansas. Mj will be flying home on Monday. B will be staying with her dad, for Summer. He lives only a couple hours from Adam’s family. Adam and I went out for pizza, for supper tonight. I did eat nearly a whole slice of it, too. Now, I’m sitting downstairs watching another silly reality series on TV.

Mikayla and I went shoe shopping, the other day. We got frosted lemonades, at Chick Fil A, and then came home and laid out in the pool. One afternoon out in the pool, and my hair literally got shades lighter! I couldn’t believe it, when I looked at myself in the mirror later.

One of my old work friends had her birthday, yesterday. We made plans to go get lunch, and hang out. It was a lot of fun, catching up with her.

I made a little video, sort of a synopsis of June with my family. I did some crafting, got the house decorated for the 4th. I’ve got a few different projects I’m working on, around the house. I’ve been cleaning and reorganizing closets, cabinets, and pantries. I’m also doing a complete makeover, on Adam and my bathroom. New light fixtures, mirrors, cabinets and knobs. New sinks and faucets. New paint and new window treatments. Needless to say, our bathroom is currently a disaster zone. We’re making progress, though! It’s going to look great, when it’s all finished.

I know I sort of began this post with some seriousness, but really and truly, I’m doing alright. I know where I’m struggling, and I’m getting help for the things I’m not able to tackle on my own. I’m allowing myself to prioritize my own well being, physical, mental, emotional, and even spiritual. They might be baby steps, but dammit I am moving forward. There are times where even one day at a time is an overwhelming obstacle. Instead, I tell myself one moment at a time. On the other hand, sometimes I find myself realizing nearly an entire month has passed, and I can’t think of a single moment where I wasn’t at least okay. My work friend always tells me about the positivity that radiates from me, and mentions nearly anytime we talk that she “needs my energy”. It’s incredible the perception others can have of me, or that I am able to be noticed for things I often can’t see reflected back at me when I look in the mirror.

Well, you’ve been writing them checks

That ain’t nobody gonna cash

And me finding out ain’t the only thing that’s fast around this town

But what goes around comes back around

You said lies on the loose

You thought nobody would catch

The way you’re reeling them in

Has got me throwing them back

Until I’m faded, until I’m wasted

‘Cause you ain’t who you were before

I don’t know you anymore, I see you

It’s still hard to believe it

I lost it all but my mind

The only thing that helps is time

Something’s wasted, And I can’t replace it

Someone save me, I’ve gone crazy

Sometimes I remind myself, I might have lost it all, but I found myself

~Colt Graves

I’ve had a lot going on, the last month or so. My Brooklyn graduated high school. I drove down to Knoxville, and helped Mikayla get moved back home, for the Summer. Mj is in Kansas, with Adam’s family, right now. I drove her to St Louis, where we met Adam’s youngest brother, and he brought her to Kansas. She’s been there a week now, and she’ll be flying back home next Monday. She’s been having a blast, with her cousins, Uncles, and grandma. Adam’s mom is doing as good as could possibly be, for what she’s going through. Her chemo will be finished in just a few weeks. Then, she’ll have a double mastectomy. Then, radiation.

Mikayla went to California, with her rocket club, a couple weeks ago. She spent 2 weeks in the desert, at a competition. It’s a very exclusive competition, where only 11 other colleges WORLDWIDE were invited to compete. She built a rocket she named “Phobos”, and Phobos had a successful launch! Unfortunately, the landing did not go as smoothly. Even so, it was a huge accomplishment for her, and I’m incredibly proud!

There is so much good and happy happening, and I’ve been choosing to focus on that. I won’t pretend the hurt or my sadness don’t manage to find their way into even the best moments. Those feelings are no longer allowed to suffocate me, though. As far as I’m concerned, that’s enough for now.

I’ve learned to accept things that aren’t easily understood. There’s no good explanation, but at this point, I suppose I really don’t need one. The losses I’ve felt are very real, but I’m realizing I’ve been grieving people that simply never existed. I remember reading once, about a young man in high school, who was knocked unconscious. He went onto college, where he met the love of his life. They married, bought a home, and started a family. One day, while he was alone in the house, he’d noticed a lamp sitting on the nightstand didn’t look right. It was upside down. As he stared at it, confused and mesmerized, it seemed to grow bigger and brighter. Until suddenly, he woke up on the ground, surrounded by his classmates. He was still a high school kid. He’d only been knocked out for about 10 seconds, but inside those fleeting moments, he’d lived out over a decade of his own life, only to discover it had all been inside his mind. There’d been no wife, children, house, or career. He was forced to reconcile with his grief over these memories and people he so dearly loved and missed, but in reality were never real. I believe I’m recognizing something very similar within myself, and the life I believed was mine. Unfortunately, some people will never be the person your heart and mind can be completely convinced they were. I ignored what was, while putting all my faith and trust into what I wanted. As much as I’ve told myself that I could be wise enough to be a good judge of character, it is absolutely clear that just isn’t the case. I’ve made the same mistake, more than once. My greatest regrets and guilt come from knowing that my inability to decipher between what and who truly are worthy of my love, trust, and time, has caused my family, my husband and our babies, to suffer with the same hard crash into a heartbreak I’m helpless to prevent or protect them from. That’s been a hard “pill to swallow”. All I can do now, is my best to pick up the broken pieces, and help my family do the same. I no longer will forgive and forget. Instead, I’m going to remember and recover. That’s how I will build the kind of safe and secure future I’ve always hoped for myself and my family. I can’t know exactly what will be written on the next pages of the story that is my life, but I can be certain of what won’t. Everyday that passes, I’m becoming more and more comfortable with that. I have to believe it’s all going to be alright, and accept I’ll get there when I’m meant to. I’m no longer only contemplating a future without everyone I expected to be there. There’s also now a past, without them. A whole year, and then some, of memories made that don’t include those people. And ya know what, I’m still here. I have a whole lot of family and friends who’ve stood right beside me through it, too. Like the song I chose today, I might of lost it all, but I found myself. I wish it didn’t have to be such painful lessons in life, which taught me most about who I am, what I need, and where I should go. I’ve been told, since I was a kid, I insist on learning the hard way. I suppose that’s probably accurate. Maybe, hopefully, there are no more big life lessons I’ll have to learn through this kind of heartache and hurt. God, I hope I’ve learned enough from this one. Enough to convince my God, karma, whoever’s in charge of administering this “justice” through the most painful of punishments I could never have even imagined I’d be reckoning with. I want to say, I can’t take anymore, but the truth is, I’ve endured much more than I believed possible. I’ve been tossed into holes I was sure I’d never be able to crawl up out of, and while I’m not quite all the way back out onto the solid ground I’m aiming for, I’m still climbing. I look down sometimes, and realize just how far I’ve come.

I made mistakes

I’ve done some dirt

I messed up and I’ve caused some hurt

The [woman] I am standing here today

Ain’t the same person that I used to be

I’m still a sinner

And I’ll never be a saint

He knows that

Cause He made me this way 

Red letters written on a page

Left down here for me in a sinner’s heaven

~Willy Kay

Wednesday was the last day of school, before Summer break! They only had a half day a half day, so we had some fun plans for our afternoon. I got the water balloons, for our traditional water balloon fight to kick off Summer. We went to pick out some flowers. I needed annuals for my hanging flower baskets, and all the flower pots around the house. We also decided to swing by Chick Fil A, for some frozen lemonades. Those drinks are a Summertime favorite, at our house.

I drove down to Knoxville, last Friday. I helped Mikayla load up all her belongings, and move out of her dorm and back home for her Summer break. Last week was very tough. Mikayla broke up with her boyfriend, Jandrel. They’d been together for over two years. We truly considered him a part of our family. Mikayla met another boy, at college, and the intoxicating excitement that followed has guided her into making the decision to end her relationship with Jandrel. As her mama, I can only observe, and offer advice. It’s up to her whether she takes it, or not. They’re so young. It would have been incredibly unusual, had her and Jandrel actually remained together. Still, I honestly believed they were going to be that couple, who did.

Brooklyn will be graduating high school, this afternoon. Her dad is here for her graduation ceremony, and then will come to our house for her party. He was here for Mikayla’s, last year, too.

I finally got my new car! I like to say I’m “bougie on a budget”. I know what I like. I know exactly what I want, and what I’m willing to compromise on. I was actually able to get everything I wanted. I just had to have it ordered and shipped. The dealership we worked with was awesome. I’m very happy with my new car, so far! It’s a smaller SUV than what I had before, and it’s “peppier”, too. It’s fun to drive. We even paid less than what my previous SUV cost, which is something I’m proud of.

I need to get to bed. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us. I just spent 3 hours icing and decorating Brooklyn’s cake! Good morning and goodnight, y’all. ♥️

Wakin’ up in cold sweat
California King bed
Got the diamond ring set
Shoes that ain’t released yet
Maserati sports car
Singin’ songs that everybody knows
On a guitar
They say I’m a superstar

But, oh
I still got this feeling in my bones
Happens every time that I’m alone
Part of me is feelin’ like a ghost

If I’m bein’ real
I spent my whole life escapin’ the pills
If I’m bein’ real
I think I was happier when I couldn’t pay the bills
If I’m bein’ real
I’m searchin’ for purpose
I feel wealthy but worthless
If I’m bein’ real
I don’t know if it’s worth it

‘Cause I’m haunted by the voice in my head
I’m haunted by the taste of that lead
I wanted too many times to jump off of the edge
Thinkin’ I was better off dead
I’m haunted only every other night
I’m haunted, and I wish I knew why
I wanted too many times to be gone by the mornin’
If I’m honest
Yeah, I’m haunted
Oh
I’m haunted

~Kane Brown & Jelly Roll

I got word, last Friday, my car is officially a total loss. I was that day years old, when I learned that, in Tennessee, a vehicle under 10 years old is considered “totaled” if damages are 75% or more of its current market value (pre accident). Honestly, my car had just turned 8 years old. I got her with 2 miles on the odometer. I put 100k more miles on it. She took us on so many trips and who knows how many school drop offs and pick ups. Even in our accident, she did an absolutely fantastic job keeping B and me safe. I know it’s JUST a car, but I can’t help this guilt I feel, like I killed her. I wasn’t able to save her. Somehow, that seems to be happening with the things I love, at an accelerating pace, and I feel powerless to stem the inevitable waves of chaotic uncertainty, change, fear, and loss.

I’ve never been one to readily embrace life changes. I generally have to be pushed from that ledge. That’s probably why, in those rare times that I do choose to make or keep ahold of particularly unpleasant changes, I mean it. We are where we are, though. I guess it is what it is…

Adam and I are going to go new car shopping, this weekend. I wish it was because I decided to, rather than I have to. I am excited, though. Last year, I was considering my next vehicle purchase. I just really wish some other family was going to be able to love my old one, the way we did. That car was a time capsule, full of so many beautiful memories. It makes me sad to know it’s on the way to a junkyard. Like a representation of so many other people, places, and things I so loved, it’s gone forever.

The other morning, as I was flipping over the next page on my perpetual calendar, it dawned on me what day it was. It was May first. May Day. Instantly, memories flooded through my mind. I remembered exactly what I was doing, exactly one year earlier. I remembered what I’d been doing, the evening before May Day, the year earlier, too. Jackie, Mj, and I went to Kohls. We made May baskets, for the littles to have and hand out, the next morning.

I’m not heartless. If only I could be so “cold” as I’ve been accused. It hurts more than I knew I could hurt, remembering. It’s painful as hell, realizing how much has changed, and how much I just can’t change. Still, it is a beautiful day. Jandrel has been coming over to hang out a lot, lately. We got our pool all ready for Summer. The kids can’t wait to swim. B will be graduating, in just a couple weeks. Mikayla will be moving back home, for the Summer, end of next week. There is a whole lot of good. I just have to remind myself to remember that, some days.

I’m okay.

I’m worthy.

I’m valuable.

I’m beautiful.

I’m loved.

I just need to convince my heart, so I can find the strength to let go of what haunts me.

Daylight dies
Blackout the sky
Does anyone care?
Is anybody there?
Take this life
Empty inside
I’m already dead
I’ll rise to fall again

I can feel you falling away
No longer the lost
No longer the same
And I can see you starting to break
I’ll keep you alive
If you show me the way
Forever and ever
The scars will remain
I’m falling apart
Leave me here forever in the dark

God help me I’ve come undone
Out of the light of the sun

~Breaking Benjamin

We spent Easter weekend with Adam’s family, in Kansas. It was the first time he’d seen his mom, since they were here over Thanksgiving. That was before the cancer diagnosis. She’s very pale, and tires easily, understandably. She wore a blonde wig with a baseball cap, and I actually think it’s adorable on her. We stayed in a hotel. The kids (Mikayla, Jandrel, Brooklyn, and Mj) had one room, and Adam and I had another. We spent the days over at his brother’s house. His mom and his other brother joined us out there, everyday. It was hot as heck here in Tennessee, the day we left. We arrived in Kansas wearing tank tops and shorts, and it was only 38 degrees there! The weather was cold and cloudy the entire time we were there, but everyone still had some fun. Jandrel had a blast trying out dirt bikes and shooting guns.

Brooklyn and Mj also braved the cold and got out on some ATV’s.

For Easter, I made a ham and all the sides, while Adam and his brothers smoked some briskets.

On our last night there, Jan-gee, Mikayla, and B had some fun in our hotel pool. Adam and Mj played poker with his brothers and our niece and nephew, instead of swimming.

We left early, last Monday morning. Tuesday afternoon, I picked B up from school, as usual since her surgery. Just after we pulled out of the school, we got into a pretty bad car accident. Three vehicles were involved, and we were spun around so hard, we landed by crashing into a truck that had stopped. Thankfully, no one was seriously injured, but our vehicles were wrecked. I’m positive one of the cars was totaled. That driver had been driving awfully fast, and hit us without ever hitting her brakes. We should find out, next week, whether mine is totaled, or not. My SUV had transmission fluid pouring out from underneath it. Power steering was gone, and the radiator was also leaking antifreeze and badly damaged. My front end, right side, and back fender and bumper were all crushed. One of the police officers drove B and I home, after all the vehicles were towed away. He was a real kind man, and took extra care to make sure B was okay, especially considering she was already on crutches.

Last Spring, I was actually starting to look into finding myself a new car. But then, our lives changed so dramatically, that purchase just didn’t make sense anymore. I’d intended to wait until we’ve gotten through all the legal mess with Adam and his son. I wanted to get past it, and then use the following few months to save some money up, before revisiting any car dealerships. The same week that we paid the IRS a large chunk of money, we paid an attorney almost $10k. Then, we took our Kansas trip, which needed to happen. Although it was enjoyed by everyone, it wasn’t just a fun vacation. We needed to go see Adam’s mom. Our time with her is so limited, there simply isn’t the option of waiting until it’s a “good time” for us to go on a trip. And then, our first day back home, my car gets wrecked. Badly. I’m not sure whether it’s from the accident, or because of the tension and anxiety I’m having, but I’ve been very sore. The day it happened, I felt perfectly fine, physically. It started the next morning. I had a headache, and my neck and shoulders ached. By the following day, the pain had also migrated further down, into my back and sides. It’s worst on my right side. It feels like a deep bruise around my ribs there. I’m positive there’s no broken ribs. I’ve had broken ribs 3 separate times in my adult life, so I know well the pain of that. I cried out when Adam wrapped his arm around me, squeezing against my right side with his hand. He wasn’t rough with me, and had no idea I’d even been hurting. I hadn’t mentioned it to him. Both of us were caught by surprise, when I reacted the way I did! Thank God, my Brooklyn is doing great, and hasn’t had any problems from our accident. Her 6 week appointment, with her surgeon, was the day after the accident. She is now able to begin physical therapy, and has some exercises to do everyday at home. She can walk with only one of her crutches. Her surgeon wants her to put just half her weight onto that knee, for two more weeks, while she works to build up the muscle mass that’s been lost in that leg. I took a picture of her legs, side by side. It’s incredible how stark the difference is between them, now. She literally can’t just take off walking, like normal, because her leg isn’t strong enough to hold her up without support.

Brooklyn and Mj rode to Knoxville, with Jan-gee, this weekend. They all hung out with Mikayla there. It was just Adam and me at home, all weekend! He asked me to go outside to play cornhole with him, last night. We had a real good time. It was nice to spend time together, talking and laughing.

Adam and I are very much still trapped inside the grip of this battle for our family and our future. There is no how to guide for this shit. All we can do is fight for what we believe is right. Is it, though? Are we right? I truly haven’t the slightest idea, anymore.

I learned something about myself, awhile ago. To my understanding, I never considered myself to have an eating disorder. I always thought they were perpetuated by a distorted body image. Eating disorders were for people who were skin and bones, but never realized it. “Body dysmorphia” and all that. It was months ago, when I realized that wasn’t necessarily the case. Because I have easily recognized the clear contrast between me at a healthy weight, versus otherwise, I hadn’t once considered the possibility that I could actually have a problem categorized within the context of an eating disorder. It simply never occurred to me, until I was presented with a truth I’d never heard. Eating disorders are more clearly explained as a desperate desire for some form of control. When so much of your life feels out of control, the need to find some way, anything to convince yourself you’ve still got power, can be the foundation for unhealthy ways of coping. It isn’t that I don’t wish for a fuller face, bigger boobs, or the curves that a healthy weight brings me. It’s that my primal need for some feeling of control over my mind and body have become much more powerful and important. I decide what, when, and how much goes into my body. How quickly that can and has morphed into something very much resembling addiction, for me! I can’t stop. If I stop, I’ll lose the tiny fraction of control I’ve maintained throughout this chaos. It’s keeping me sane. It’s the only way I find that I can completely control at least this one part of me, of my days and who and what I am now. The logical parts of me understand how destructive and ridiculous those thoughts are. There’s another part of me that’s dominated by my fear of giving up this last bit of choice I’ve got left. When so much of my own life seems to be a series of events I didn’t ask for, never wanted, and feel powerless against, what’s so wrong with hanging onto this one little scrap of control? Just for now. After all, it’s only myself at risk. Doesn’t anybody understand I’m already gone?! What’s the point? Why should I give a shit about potential long term effects of doing what I’ve gotta do today that keeps me alive for tomorrow? I die now, or I die later. So leave me the fuck alone… That’s my thinking, anyway.

A couple weeks ago, my doctor had me get some lab work done. They took a bunch of my blood for testing. I received a list of concerns following those results. My iron is very low. Hemoglobin is very low. My vitamin D is very low. My vitamin B is low. My white blood count is low. My thyroid is completely fucked. My blood sugar is low. My blood pressure is nearly too low, but heart rate is high. My cardiac health is at risk…

I’ve got a problem, and logically, I know it. I haven’t figured out whether or what I’m going to do about it. I have acknowledged there’s something very broken in me. But, what else is new? I’m pretty sure that’s obvious. If I’m brutally honest, I suppose I’m just not able to give two shits about it. Not now. Not yet. When I’m not overwhelmed by chaos and uncertainty, incapable of trusting that there even will be a tomorrow. Then, maybe.

My give a fuck meter was so maxed out, for so long, I truly believe that for my very survival, I’ve largely ignored many things that normally should’ve given me concern. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s more like I don’t believe it matters whether I care or not. In fact, it almost seems the things I do care about are the first ones to fall apart. It doesn’t make a difference what I attempt to do to protect what matters to me. What’s going to happen is just…going to. I can hold my breath, with a death grip on the edge of my seat, or I can shout to the universe, fuck it. Do what you’re gonna do. It may sound ridiculous and strange, but I find relief in that.

When I was a little kid, I once drowned in a lake. Seriously. I was playing “chicken” with other kids, and I was underwater while a kid tried to climb onto my shoulders. I remember the panic, as I was running out of breath. I fought to get him off of me, but nobody knew I was panicking below the water. With incredible clarity, I remember letting go. Accepting that “breath” of lake water, knowing what it meant, and then the overwhelming sense of peace that followed. I was no longer afraid. It was a comfort I can’t describe. Next thing I remember, I was on the beach, throwing up lake water onto the sand. I think part of me has spent my life, most especially these tough times, longing for that feeling of pure bliss again. That’s the sort of relief I’m talking about, when I say it comes with letting go.

I don’t want to die. It’s actually the opposite. I want my life back! I so want up and out from the muddy waters I’m trapped beneath. I want to breathe in and back out again. I want to feel the warmth of the sun shining down on me, without becoming consumed with thoughts of all the reasons I don’t deserve it.

For the first 6 months or so, I had panic attacks and meltdowns. I would completely fall apart, uncontrollably sobbing and inconsolable. It happened with near predictable timing, about once every two weeks. There wasn’t a single one of those times when Adam’s face wasn’t also streaked with tears, his eyes full of sorrow, remorse, and frustration because he wanted more than anything to “fix it” for me. I hated to show him how utterly broken I truly was. I’d fight so hard not to allow my hurt to surface, until it finally came pouring out in a flood of tears, anger, sadness, and pure hopelessness. I would be laying on our shower floor, water pouring down on me, hugging my knees against my chest as I cried harder than ever before. I’d hear the sounds of my own wailing, almost as if watching from another person’s perspective. I didn’t know I, a grown woman, could so audibly cry out. I haven’t done that, in months. That is progress. The other night, during our shower, I had started to express my concerns about so many of the things that are happening at once. I felt frustrated, because Adam didn’t seem to recognize these issues as being worrying in the ways I did. He insisted I need to trust him when he promises me he will not allow my worst fears to come true. We will be okay. He’s got me. So, I finally asked him, exasperated, when should I worry, then? When we run out of money? When something or someone else goes to shit? When? He looked me straight in my eyes, and said to me, when I stop giving a shit. That’s when. It ain’t gonna happen, though, because I’ll never quit fighting for my family. I was left with no argument. He was right. He turned the shower off and stepped out. He wrapped me in a towel, and held his arms around me. He kissed my forehead and in a gentle but very firm voice, he told me ..but don’t you dare keep things from me. You have to tell me what’s going on. Do not give up on me. You don’t have to believe me when I’m telling you I’m going to keep us safe, just don’t give up on me. Give me a chance and I’ll prove it to you. “Butterflies” danced in my belly, in that moment. There’s something so powerful and attractive about seeing my husband embrace my worries, that seem impossibly big, yet stand confident there is no obstacle he can’t overcome, when it means protecting us. I have no doubt he will fight with every ounce of his strength, for us, and he is pretty damn strong.

You would’ve never learned the words to “Amazing Grace”
Never felt the chill of a pew when you lost faith
Well, blood, sweat, and tears wouldn’t mean a thing
If you didn’t strike out a couple hundred times
If you never hit rock bottom, never cursed the sky
You would’ve never known to ask the good Lord why
Or ever changed your life

You wouldn’t know what it’s like to dance in the rain
Never see the silver lining when the skies go grey
You wouldn’t know a dream come true from a few that don’t
You’d never find your way on a broken road

If you never had the downs, the scuffs, the scars, the ruts
And all you put behind you
When the wins, the ups, the rise aboves
Right there to remind you

If you never had hard days
If you never had a heartbreak
Never had more than you can take
Or carried the weight
Of life on your shoulders
Would it feel like you earned it?
Would you live with a purpose?
Or ever known your own strength
If you never had
If you never had hard days?
Yeah, if you never had hard days

~Brantley Gilbert

I was in a great mood, yesterday. I went and got some coffee next door to my old work, and then I stopped in to visit with an old coworker friend. We’ve been texting lots, and I told her I was going to come by one of these days. I got all caught up on the latest gossip.

It was so darned hot! I tried not to turn our AC on, in the house, but I couldn’t tough it out. I know, if I’M melting in the heat, Adam will be dyin’ in it. So, I wimped out and cut it on…

I made tortilla chips with some pico de gallo, queso dip, and leftover taco meat, for supper. We had a whole nacho bar set up. I hadn’t made my own chips in a long time, but they turned out good.

Later, while Adam and I were in the shower, I was extra chatty. I talked about finally completing our taxes, and let him know they were accepted by the IRS. Uncle fuckin’ Sam sure was a greedy bastard, this year. On top of the money we’d paid him all year, we wound up still owing a shit ton. It hurt to write that big ol’ check. Well, metaphorical check. I had it electronically debited, but I wasn’t excited about having to do it. We talked about finances, and he always makes sure to tell me what a great job I’m doing. Our conversation moved onto the long list of other stressful crap we’ve got going on, and have dealt with over the past year. I told Adam, I sometimes feel we’re trapped in a loop that I’m not sure how to get out of. I miss us. I recognize we are each careful and much more “gentle” with one another. I see the weight of everything he’s carrying, and his pain because of it. I know he sees mine, too. I don’t remember the last time we fought or fucked. We’ve had sex, and disagreements. We haven’t had the passion that fuels a real fight or the raw, animalistic kind of good hard fucking, in I don’t know how long. That’s not to say I particularly want to have a blow up, beyond pissed off at each other kind of fight. Or, that I don’t want and need my husband to make love to me. I guess I’m just concerned because I so do not want to remain inside the place we’ve been inside, forever. I very badly want to find our way back to the us we always were, before. I don’t believe our relationship or marriage is in any kind of imminent danger. I simply hope for the parts we’ve been missing to not stay missing. I’ve learned that it’s incredibly important for me to allow myself to find and accept joy, without overthinking my laughter and then judging myself as if I shouldn’t be allowed it. Punishing myself, blaming and shaming myself and how easily these things can dominate my thoughts, solves none of our problems. I’m realizing, Adam needs to see me “okay”. Not even only “okay”. Joyful. Happy. I can both see and feel the ways it affects him, to witness my hurts, fears, and my sadness. He genuinely believes it is his responsibility to ensure that I am not burdened or harmed. Seeing my worry and pain must feel as if he’s failed me. Of course, I in no way see my amazing husband as a failure. I look at him and see the most beautiful man, inside and out. I see a man who has always been the best provider for his family. A man who is faithful, loyal, and honest… to a fault, sometimes! A man who never breaks his promises. I also see a man who is doing his damndest to never show us the cracks in his “armor”, and who refuses to give up and be broken. He draws his strength from his commitment to his family. To me. He never stops giving, doing, and being everything he possibly can to keep me safe and secure. I know for sure, if he ever stopped trying, caring, and just gave up, it would wreck me. I don’t believe I’d ever be okay again. When Adam assures me we are going to be okay, I trust and believe him. I’ve no doubt in his determination or abilities to “keep the wolves away”. He’s my fierce protector. So long as I’ve got him fighting for me, I know I’m safe. I need to do better. I need to be better. He needs to see, hear, and feel from me assurance that his hard fought battles for my well being are not in vain. That I know he’s out there slaying all the dragons he can, and it matters. He matters. He’s doing a good job. He’s a good man, father, husband, son, and friend. He needs me to be okay, and to be happy much more often, too. I need to give him the admiration and appreciation he deserves. The best way I could think of going about it, is to giggle more. To be silly. To let go of the things I’ve refused to quit holding onto, knowing they only weigh me down and no longer bring joy into my life. I’m starting to grasp this concept that it actually isn’t selfish of me to seek out people and things that do make me happy, in spite of all those that have worked to rob my joy. Despite my grief, because my smiles surely don’t mean I didn’t care. I’m giving myself permission to let go. I’m going to fill my days with as much joy as possible. I’ll collect the good in everyday, and cling tightly onto that. And, I’m not going to feel guilty for it anymore, either. My healing isn’t only for me. It’s about giving my husband and our family what they deserve, and hoping maybe my husband will be able to give himself permission to do the same, assured that his wife is just fine.

Today’s a pretty good day to have a good day ♥️

I’m including the video I made for my corned beef gravy, last week. I’ve also got one made for last night’s supper, and working on one today. I’ve got a new meatballs recipe I’m trying out in my crockpot. So, I’ll add those soon. I truly hope everyone who’s reading this is able to always remember it’s okay to be okay, and anyone who expects different is most likely only going to hold you back. The depth of our grief is not measured by how long or how many tears we cry.

I’ve only very recently discovered the trend known as “trad wife” content creators. Do I consider myself to be another “trad wife”, like the ones who regularly share content with this hashtag? The answer would be a resounding NO! Not just no, but hell nah. Nope. Absolutely, unequivocally, no. For one thing, I’m by no means a hardcore holistic, zero processed foods, all organic, grow all my own food and prepare it while wearing prairie dresses and an apron kind of girl. No shame to women who enjoy those things. Personally, it just isn’t me. I buy the things we eat from (gasp) the grocery store. Except for the occasional trip to our local farmer’s market during Summer months, or the stuff our neighbor brings us from his backyard garden, our meals are not created from fresh, completely organic food. I don’t, nor want to live on a farm. Again, I mean no offense to anyone who does live that way, it’s just not me. I kinda suck at baking homemade breads, and most certainly don’t maintain a constant supply of sour dough bread starters. Not that I don’t enjoy trying out recipes for various types of breads. It can be a lot of fun. Most of our sandwich bread, buns, rolls come from (gasp again) the grocery store. And, by the grocery store, I don’t mean Whole Foods. I’m talking about Publix, Kroger, Aldi, Costco, and even (gasp twice as loudly for this one) Walmart. This oft hated on, one stop shopping center has been the subject of many a controversy throughout my adult life. Let’s be real, though. I don’t know anyone, not one person, who doesn’t make any purchases from their local Walmart. C’mon now. I know people who’ve claimed to be much too conscientious (i/e, pretentious) to step foot inside the horrible very bad no good place here in America, known as Walmart. They lie. Yep, I said it. I saw the granimals tag sticking out of your toddler’s shirt. Your pantry has canned green beans with the Great Value label on full display….Ya lyin’. I say this with no shame, I am a card carrying Walmart Plus member. I know, right? How can I sleep at night knowing I’m supporting such a horrible very bad no good company? I don’t actually sleep particularly great, but my Walmart membership is certainly not one of the things weighing on my conscience. Sorry not sorry.

I have zero interest in portraying myself, my family, our home, wardrobes, or my cooking as ultimate pictures of perfection. I’m not ashamed of any of these things, by any means! I can take pride in my family and home, without presenting completely unrealistic ideals on social media. I enjoy nice things. I don’t feel the need to document and show off my stuff or my skills in a video while I pretend that’s not exactly what I’m doing. Being a wife and mom, a homemaker, has been my life’s ambition. Truly. It isn’t a cosplay opportunity. Housewives aren’t handed out a starter package with a wardrobe you’d wear to the flippin’ Met Gala. New moms aren’t all standing in their kitchens in a $6,000 dress, 4 inch heels, hair and makeup done by the glam squad that came along with our housewife kit while we teach you how to make a breakfast Gordon Ramsey himself would envy. Miss perfect “trad wife”, doing the most to convince your audience that they too can and should be just like you 10 days postpartum, under all that makeup and expensive clothing we all know you’re wearing an adult diaper. Just like all the other new mothers in their kitchens at 5:00am with their hair up in the messy bun they styled days ago, which now dangles precariously off to one side of her head. Wearing pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt that smells like breast milk. You can pretend it isn’t true, but every mother knows the reality of what’s happening underneath the carefully crafted image being displayed there.

I guess what most irks me about the “trad wife” content I’ve seen, is the arrogance and the judgmental attitude so clearly on display. There’s an obvious disdain for the very audience being spoken to. There very well could be, and probably are, some women who are claiming that label, or hashtag, in their posted content who are nothing but kind and sincere. From what I’ve observed, that hasn’t been the case. Of course, I’ve only been introduced to a handful of these people and their content. I fully acknowledge my impression is based on limited experience within that space. For me, I’ve been blessed with the ability to make the choices for myself and my family that were what I wanted, needed, and believed were best. What’s right for me and my family is not a one size fits all prescription for everyone. My desires and my joy are just that, mine. We need to quit preaching our convictions as if they should be held by all. There is a clear danger in becoming so deeply invested in the image being portrayed to others, that your true identity gets lost. What works for you right now might not always work for your future. There’s nothing inherently wrong with sharing your ideas or your perspective. My issue is with those who proclaim their versions of homemaking, motherhood, marriage are the one and only path to success. Not only is that completely false, I’ve seen many lives turned upside down because they chose to remain inside a fantasy of their own making, as their reality crumbles, rather than dare admit the things they put on the internet aren’t real life.

Please do share your recipes, your tips and tricks around the house. Tell us all about what has worked for you. For the love of God, though, stop pretending to be superior and fooling others into believing it.

If I just breathe
Let it fill the space between
I’ll know everything is all right
Breathe
Every little piece of me, you’ll see
Everything is all right
If I just breathe

~Michelle Branch

Today, I’ve just been doing some more housework. I love that I can do things like washing everyone’s bedding and hanging it out to dry. It always smells sooo good, and then I sleep great. I went through some of my kitchen cabinets, the other day, and I got everything all organized neatly again. I also got Adam and my closet completely declutterred and reorganized. I bought some cheap shelving meant for those canvass storage totes, and used them to put our jeans and all the clothes previously just sitting on the wire shelves. Inevitably, they would become messy piles of mixed up clothes because they’d get tipped over, so I was in need of a solution. It worked perfect!

I baked some lemon pound cake, this afternoon. I’m going to make corned beef gravy with mashed potatoes and biscuits for supper, tonight. I’m planning to record that, but I’m going to upload last night’s taco lasagne supper video, today. I’ll try to get tonight’s meal prep shared here tomorrow. I told Adam, last night, I get nervous when I’m recording video. I can write so much more and better than I can talk out loud. He laughed and teased me, I dunno? You know how to talk plenty, too!

I feel like I’m slipping back into my “domestic role”, and it feels really good for me. I badly needed the distraction my job gave me, when I took it. For the most part, I’m in a much better headspace now, and I was seriously missing out with my babies as well as being driven crazy by the unorganized mess my house had become. I didn’t even realize just how much I missed cooking good suppers and baking yummy things for my family, until I was able to do these things again.

Between Adam’s mom’s illness, our messy relationship with our son, and the losses of people I’d so intertwined my entire life with, Adam and I have definitely struggled to find the time or energy for the exciting sex life we had together, before. I also haven’t done a damn thing to get into any real trouble with him. Or, if there was something, it wasn’t serious and had a valid explanation, so there weren’t any consequences for them. Adam told me, the other night, how incredibly loyal he’s recognized I am. He said, most women would never have stuck around through all this shit, but you did, and I’ll never ever forget that. For me, I truly couldn’t imagine myself anywhere but wherever he and I are, together. It’s as if God skillfully and purposefully constructed the most amazing man for me to fit perfectly into. I hurt, with the losses I’ve faced over this past half decade. I miss some people, the way I believed I knew and had them. There is simply no competition, if life ever forced me to choose between my husband and every single other thing that mattered to me. I choose him, always and every time. I wish this past year hadn’t brought this sorrow and hurt, but just like every other year that’s come before it, I do not love my husband like last year. I love him more. Whatever life brings, I’ve got his back, and he sure as hell has got mine. I know for certain, I never could’ve made it through everything without my Adam.

I suppose I’ll start getting things ready, so I can get started on our supper. I don’t really have much else to write about here, today. I’m okay with the peaceful quiet of days like these, anyway.

One day I’m gon’ finally be
Everything that I ever dreamed
So let the world try and hold me back
I keep my head up at the stars
And hustle until I get there
Cuz nothing in life, nobody in life
Is gonna steal my shine
Nothing’s gonna steal my shine

~Crucifix

Today, the sun came back out, after a long week of rain and clouds here. We did get a brief break from the rain, on Friday. I took my girls out for coffee drinks. That evening, we all played some cornhole out back. It was so much fun just spending time laughing and being silly with my family!

It started back to pouring rain, right about 11:00, but it was a great time.

Today was a typical day, here. I take B (Brooklyn, we call her B) to school and pick her up when she’s finished. She has already gotten so many high school credits, she is able to leave school at 12:45 everyday. I can’t believe there’s only a month left of this school year!

I did some cleaning and baking, today. I made banana bread and chocolate chip cookies. I also made my “famous” sloppy joes for supper. I meant to talk about it, in the video I’m posting below, but I got sidetracked. Instead, I’ll just share my recipe here, if I haven’t already? I really can’t even remember whether I’ve done that?

1.5 lbs ground beef or turkey

Minced onion

1 1/2 cups ketchup

4 Tbs worstershire sauce

4 Tbs brown sugar

Just brown the meat with onion, add other ingredients, and let simmer on low. I always serve with both hamburger buns for sandwiches, and with tortilla chips and nacho cheese sauce for making “sloppy nachos”.

I feel like there is no need for conversation
Some questions are better left without a reason
And I would rather reveal myself than my situation
Now and then I consider my hesitation

The more the light shines through me
I pretend to close my eyes
The more the dark consumes me
I pretend I’m burning, burning bright

I wonder if the things I did were just to be different
To spare myself of the constant shame of my existence
And I would surely redeem myself in my desperation
Here and now I’ll express my situation

There’s nothing ever wrong, but nothing’s ever right
Such a cruel contradiction
I know I crossed the line, it’s not easy to define
I’m born to indecision
There’s always something new, some path I’m supposed to choose
With no particular rhyme or reason

The more the light shines through me
I pretend to close my eyes
The more the dark consumes me
I pretend I’m burning

~Shinedown

This post is going to be all over the place. I made a video while I prepared our supper, last week. I’d intended to share it here sooner, but life’s been life-ing, lately. We’ve had some serious flooding, over the past week. The kids have been out of school since last Wednesday, and still there’s no school tomorrow because of it. Mercifully, our home is not in one of the low lying neighborhoods that have been devastated by the flooding, but there are many families around us who haven’t been as fortunate.

Brooklyn’s senior prom was this weekend, too. We weren’t sure it would happen, because of all the flooded streets, businesses, and homes, but they did decide to go ahead with prom. She was so happy! She looked absolutely gorgeous!

Everything is a strange mixture of wonderful and terrible, joy and sadness, all at once. Everyday, I am still hurting so badly. The enormous betrayal by these people I so loved and trusted has left very deep wounds within me that I’m not sure can ever be healed. I’m certain there will be permanent scars. Ones not visible to those who only ever see the parts of myself I’m willing to share. Only a very small handful of people around me now are truly aware of these ugly and broken parts of me I so cautiously conceal. There are some who have noticed my efforts to hide pieces of myself. I have given vague explanations that are not lies, but also are not the whole truth either. I have fears that prevent me from sharing all of it. Fear that I could make myself again vulnerable, and in my mind, showing others exactly where I’m weakest is an open invitation for them to stab me in the back, too. I have fear of so horrifying others, if they were to ever see my “open and bloody wounds”, that they might mock me, judge me, or run from me. I don’t believe I’m strong enough to survive even one more injury inflicted by someone I allowed myself to care about, or trusted would care for me.

Something I do want to make clear here, is that this isn’t about forgiveness, or inability to forgive. It’s not about holding onto anger. I’m not angry. Not but rarely, anyway. My choices to remain apart from each and every person I’ve separated from are not easy for me. My decisions aren’t made because I need to punish anybody, or because I am someone who holds onto grudges. I truly don’t believe that I’m a “cold” or uncaring person. I never asked for any of this. In my worst nightmares, I still couldn’t have imagined losing so many people I cherished. I wouldn’t have believed for one moment I’d be in this position of having to say goodbye to so many who aren’t actually gone. I absolutely cannot allow myself and, most importantly, my family to be exposed to anyone I’m not certain can be trusted. And truth be told, at this point, almost no one meets that criteria. My dad, my husband, my daughters, and Adam’s family are all that’s left of those I’m confident will not betray us. I’ve never required those around me to be perfect. I’m able to overlook, forgive, and get past almost anything. I understand there are flaws within all of us. We sometimes hurt, disappoint, and let down those we love most. All I’ve ever needed for trust to exist, is genuine remorse for those mistakes, when they do happen. I just needed to know mistakes, bad judgement, any damage caused, was truly regretted and that every effort to ensure it wouldn’t happen again would be made. I’ve no faith whatsoever this can sincerely come from those who’ve so intentionally caused or contributed to the pain and the losses my family and I are still reeling from. I’m afraid there’s an inability for some people to ever really and truly accept love, which makes it impossible for them to give it, either. There are some who have been so affected by harm inflicted upon them by others, there is irreparable damage done to the place within the heart designed for love in relationships to withstand the inevitable challenges that come. I’m overwhelmed by fear that the same could or has happened to me, too. What if I’m broken, now? Am I good for the people who’ve remained so devoted to me, trusting and believing in me to care for them from that place within my own heart reserved for loving them well? Am I a bad person? Have I brought this onto myself and my family? Is it my fault? Was I blind to my own inability to be good for those I’ve loved? Is it my reckless ignorance, my refusal to accept what is instead of what I hoped could be, which has allowed the circumstances that led to this pain? I spend countless hours going over and over again every single significant moment, and I consider endless what ifs. What if I’d said this, instead? What if I’d done that, instead? I struggle often with my thoughts of all my inadequacies. If I was a better daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend…then maybe? I cannot deny the obvious faults I’ve accepted within myself, believing my best intentions could overcome the chaos made possible because of them. It doesn’t matter how well intentioned, my best just wasn’t good enough for everyone. I’ve given to those I’ve loved from the purest most authentic places of my heart, but that’s irrelevant when it comes to the fact that it clearly didn’t provide enough to sustain these relationships that so mattered to me. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, or didn’t realize it, until it was too late. That hurts real bad. The sting of all the betrayal is matched by this awareness that I’m just as liable for it, if I’m not the kind of person I thought I was.

Having said all of that, I’m doing okay. I’m okay. Well, I will be. I think I will be. I’m pretty sure, anyhow.

Mikayla was home for the weekend. She left a few hours ago. The girls and I went out for coffee, this afternoon. I took the pictures and videos of the flooding along the way.

One of my best friends I grew up with has been working to convince me to come along with her to a concert in Las Vegas, in July. I’ve been thinking about it. It would be so much fun to go to the concert with her, and to spend time with a close girl friend. We’re going to visit Adam’s family, in Kansas, over Easter. His mom is fighting this cancer valiantly. She’s incredible. Still, she’s very sick. Her battle is one we’re all aware cannot be “won”. Instead, she fights like hell to be here with us for as long as possible. Her strength is so beyond anything I could ever imagine possessing myself. It’s inspiring to see her perseverance and positivity. She has a quiet confidence, assured that it is okay and that she is okay. Her faith in God gives her comfort that sustains her always. I really should take these valuable lessons from her. Nothing shakes her faith, and nothing or no one can take her peace.

~The Jane Dear Girls

I have one more “cast member” to finally introduce, here. This past October, I had another daughter who celebrated her 18th birthday. Brooklyn Hope was born just 15 months after Mikayla. Mikayla was only 8 months old when I discovered I was having another baby. Brooklyn was barely 6 months old when their dad and I began to live our own separate lives apart from one another. Mikayla had just turned 3, and Brooklyn was soon to be 2, when I started dating Adam. I’d wound up calling Mikayla, Brooklyn, and Wyatt our “Irish triplets”. We spent all these years working to build our beautiful family, and it’s been such incredible speed with which it seems most of these pieces we’d finally sewn together have come unraveled. While I’ve always been peripherally aware the days would come, when my babies would begin to separate themselves from our home and this family Adam and I call ours so they could grow and build their own lives, I just don’t think I’m ready. Could I ever have been ready? I will readily admit it’s a jealous love I have for my children. Perhaps a selfish love? I just so deeply wanted to give them more than they’ve gotten, yet. I had all these hopes and dreams and so many plans formed with the purest of intentions. There’s too many things I haven’t done. Haven’t said. Should’ve done. Should’ve said. And, as many or maybe more things I wish I hadn’t done or said. My children’s journeys simply do not begin when I’m ready. They have, are, and will begin to take their first timid steps out into a world I cannot design or dictate for them. They’ll have their very own unique stories to write, and childhood is only one brief chapter.

My Brooklyn was due to have been born on December 28. She arrived much sooner, on October 17. She has always been a tiny yet absolutely fierce girl. She’s fought hard for her place in this world, and dammit she’s earned it. She’s been defying the odds since the moment she was created. I truly admire her strength and determination. She’s shown unbelievable courage in the face of every single challenge that’s been set before her. I simply couldn’t be more proud to have been chosen to be her mama.

It was my Brooklyn who had surgery, last week. The surgeons removed everything they deemed necessary, and then drilled holes into her “distal lateral femur”, with hope that her body will begin to repair the missing bone and cartilage that was damaged and destroyed. As always, my brave and beautiful Brooklyn has proven to be as amazing as ever. We just had the appointment to remove her stitches and staples, yesterday. She will be exclusively using her crutches to get around, for the next 5 weeks. Her orthopedic oncologist will have us go in for a repeat MRI and x-rays, on April 21, and in his words “we will go from there”. She’s been looking forward to her prom, this year, and even though she will be on crutches, she’s definitely going to be there!

I have so much more to say, but not tonight.

Wake me up when the season’s gone
‘Cause I’ve wasted all my dawns on you
So what do I do?
Oh, what I do?

I get fucked up just ’cause I’m scared
Love’s just another drug I have grown a victim to
So what do I do?
Oh, what do I do?

All is fair in love and war
So what the hell are we even fightin’ for?
I’m on your front porch beggin’ for my dawns back
Give my goddamn records and my clothes back
‘Cause I’m through
Oh, how I’m through

Give me my dawns back
Everything that dies makes its way back
I lost her last July in a heart attack
I need one small victory

~Zach Bryan

In the Fall of 2023, Jackie and I went shopping, and returned home with a whole bunch of craft supplies. We spread everything out all over our ping pong table, in the basement, and thus began what would be a regular hobby we shared. I would always tell my “Alexa” to play country music, while we painted and worked on our latest craft projects. Zach Bryan had a couple of new songs that year that we’d hear often played. I can’t listen to his music without thinking of those times, with Jackie. I don’t even listen to music when I’m crafting, anymore. I’ll put on a podcast, or find a show to put up on the TV.

I’m sitting in my basement, surrounded by my mess of wood, paint, and ribbon I used this weekend, for my latest projects. I craft by myself, now. I’ve been making a lot of Spring themed things. I’ve been using a much more neutral color palette, recently. I’d have loved to show Jackie how much better I’ve gotten at making pretty bows. I sometimes make something and think to myself, I’ll bet she’d have liked this.

One week from tomorrow will be my last day at my work. My baby’s surgery is scheduled for Wednesday the 12th of March. After several days and nights spent contemplating, weighing my options, I came to the conclusion that it’s the right thing for all of us for me to focus on taking care of my family. I am only one person, with finite hours and limited resources to give everyday. My manager has been amazing. When I talked with her about this, last week, she was super understanding and supportive. She made a point to tell me that, in two or three months, when my baby’s back to herself and our other family stuff has settled down, my job will still be there for me if I want it. Everyone at work has been great. For the majority of my time there, I intentionally avoided allowing anyone there to ever know me. It sort of became like the “Streisand Effect”, because it seemed the harder I worked at going unnoticed, the more they all paid attention to me. Although, for the most part, I did manage to keep most of myself hidden from everyone, there have been a few people I’ve shared some of myself with. I was so disinterested in forming any new friendships, but it happened anyway.

Mikayla was home, this weekend. It’s always so quiet in here, after her and Jandrel leave on Sundays. She still cries every time it’s time for her to go back to her dorm in Knoxville. She’s doing absolutely fantastic, at school, though! She’s in an aerospace engineering club, and has gotten a coveted spot as part of a team building rockets there. She’s in an accelerated masters program, and she’s already considering going for her doctorate in aerospace engineering. Besides all that, she’s also tutoring. I’m so proud of that kid!

I’d love to write more, but it’s getting late, and we’ve all got school and work in the morning. I need to go fix Adam and Mj’s lunches for tomorrow, and then get to bed. I wouldn’t mind getting naked with my husband before we drift off to sleep, either.

Goodnight y’all

Many nights I laid awake
Overdosing on pure pain
Heartbreak and a side of pills
Whiskey bottle’s still call my name
Now and then like an old friend
Lost some place against the grain
The hands of time still ticking
The winds of life keep going by
I feel that cold winter breeze
That lets me know I’m still alive
And I can’t lie, I’ve been hurt bad
I told myself don’t turn back
Gotta go and find what I’m searching for
God knows I deserve that
And sometimes I still dream
Wake up in a pool of sweat
That sun shining through the blinds
Just in time for the sunset
Still finding good in all the bad
But all the good ain’t come yet
I take a look into my daughter’s eyes
It lets me know I ain’t done yet
I’ve been running blind through the darkness
Over time became heartless
But I’m still gonna shine regardless
And if you ever doubted me
Well that’s ok just wait and see
Cause I haven’t met one single person
That could ever doubt me as much as me

I’ve been spending all this time
Tryna pick up all the pieces
Tryna walk a line and fight away all my demons
So if you stick around, so maybe you can see
One day I’ll make you proud
Right now you don’t believe me
That’s ok
I’ll probably burn every bridge along the way
But that’s ok
Cause I’m still standing here today

~Nu Breed & Jesse Howard

This afternoon, at work, I was making some phone calls. I suddenly remembered something that had happened while I made our collection calls, some two months or so ago. The man I’d called had answered the phone and immediately began to describe how he would rape me. I hung up the phone, and within a minute, our phone was ringing. I answered with our typical greeting, “Thank you for choosing [our company]. This is [Eve]. How can I help you?” A familiar voice responded, “What are you wearing, Eve?” I slammed the phone back down into its cradle, and I began to shake as a rush of adrenaline, fear, and anger washed over me. I took a break, and returned 15 minutes later to finish my phone calls. I had been working alone, that day. It wasn’t until this afternoon that I shared this incident with my manager. She looked horrified and asked me why hadn’t I said something sooner?! I didn’t have a good answer. The truth was, I’d forgotten it. All these days I’ve continued to make daily phone calls at work, and wasn’t reminded of that one. Today, it wasn’t a phone conversation, or anything you’d expect would jog a memory like this one, that brought it back to the surface in my mind. It was the sunshine pouring through the windows. The way the sun shone into my office was the spark that ignited the memory of that flame. I’m aware of how strange that must seem. Hell, I think it’s weird! My manager was flabbergasted, asking how I can just “forget” something like that. The thing of it is, that’s nothing new for me. I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. I’ve had stressful or traumatic memories dating back as far as my early childhood that I’ve only remembered well into adulthood. The way I describe it, it’s like being told about some amazing tacos you had at this restaurant last night. You ask if I’ve ever tried their tacos. I’m not lying when I answer, nope. So one day, you and I go to this restaurant, order their tacos, and I genuinely believe this is my first time having them. Over the next several months, we get these tacos multiple times. And then, one day, it dawns on me. I used to come to this place with my grandma! The last time we were there, [something awful happened], and we never visited that restaurant again. I can recall every detail from the last time I’d been there, with my grandma. I remember what I was wearing. I remember my grandma’s purse, and how I’d been playing with the little tassel that hung from its zipper. I remember the rain that was falling down onto us, and the puddle I’d not so accidentally splashed in as my grandma hurried me inside… All these years later, after all the times I’d gotten these tacos with you, it wasn’t until this moment I had ever remembered any of that. The sight and the smells at the restaurant, its name, their delicious tacos, none of that was the trigger that unleashed the flood of memories I’d apparently kept suppressed deep within my memory. It was the rain. It was the puddle of water I’d cautiously avoided, as I hurried inside, today. That is exactly how my brain manages to pull long forgotten memories from whatever place they’ve been hidden. That is exactly how I handle overwhelmingly stressful events. I simply “forget”, until I remember.

I’m not sure there’s a clear point I can make with all of that. It’s just something I recognized in myself, today.

I’ve been doing a lot of crafting and redecorating, lately. I’m doing my best to embrace the opportunities to make changes around me that can reflect who and where I’m at, today. I’ve really done a whole lot of things different, at home. Looking around my house, everything’s familiar, but it’s also not the way it used to be. I’m growing to be ok with that. I’m able to find beauty in what’s around me. And, if I can’t see it where I used to, I’ll repaint, or add a bow. Anything to bring the light back into the place I call home. It feels more like home, again. Like maybe I’m actually finding my way back home.

Lately I’ve been wondering

When it’s all gonna end

‘Cause I’m tired of bein’ sick and tired

And I ain’t got much more in me

I’m running outta steam

And there ain’t no sleep for the wicked

So I’ve just been doin’ me

And so far it’s safe to say

That I haven’t been doin’ so well

~Chris Hosier

As has been a reoccurring theme here, lately, there’s a whole lot of shit going on. My sweet daughter has been having some knee pain for about a year, now. A few weeks ago, she suddenly couldn’t even walk. She couldn’t bend or straighten her left knee, and she had tears pouring down her face from the pain. I brought her back to her doctor, to again search for answers about what in the hell was happening. I’d taken her into the doctor no less than five times prior, looking to find an explanation for her worsening symptoms. She had X-rays done (for the third time since this began). This time, her doctor noticed something “suspicious”. We were referred to an orthopedic surgeon. An orthopedic oncologist surgeon, to be precise. She was seen there just two days later. They did MRI scans, and this doctor was able to give us some clarity. Some. He is relatively certain he knows exactly what’s causing her problems. Mercifully, he’s confident the growth is benign, but she has an abnormal growth in the cartilage around her knee. It has actually damaged her bone, to the point she has a piece of the lower part of her femur that’s broken off and is now just floating around in her knee area. As if that isn’t painful enough, this piece of bone is sometimes getting caught up in her knee joint, and prevents her from being able to bend or straighten her knee until it finally moves again. She will be going in for some pretty serious surgery, here very soon. I’m praying she’ll only need one surgery, but he warned us that’s unlikely. It’s possible, but the odds are she’s going to end up needing to have at least one more surgery after this one. They will cut out the growth within her cartilage and bone, and remove unhealthy tissue and bone. They’ll then be placing pins in her femur, in an attempt to get new healthy bone and cartilage to grow back. She’ll be in a full leg cast for 6 weeks, and then start rehab and physical therapy. Unless she isn’t able to grow new bone and cartilage. If that’s the case, and the surgeon stressed that cartilage is notoriously difficult to repair, they’ll need to do a bone graft. That surgery would mean taking some of her pelvic bone and grafting it onto her femur bone.

Adam’s mom is going in for a lung biopsy, next week. The results will determine one of two possible paths she’ll be taking. Either they’ll begin aggressive chemotherapy, to prolong her life as much as possible, OR she’ll be sent home on palliative care, to help keep her as comfortable as possible because chemo would be ineffective and would only make her feel unwell through all her last days with us. So, this biopsy will be a huge determining factor as far as hers and all of our foreseeable future goes. We’re all planning to take her to Cancun, Mexico, this Summer. It’s on her “bucket list”, and we intend to do everything we can to make sure it happens.

I talked with my manager, at work, a couple weeks ago. At first, I’d told her I have to quit. After I realized my daughter needed an appointment with an oncologist, that was my final straw. My manager cried and told me she totally understood, and to do whatever I need to do for my baby. But, she insisted she has my back at work. She told me she loves me, and doesn’t want to lose me. I think we’ve decided that I’ll first try dropping my hours down to part time. We’ll schedule around the things I need to do for my family, and I’ve got 3 and a half weeks of vacation time, 16 hours of paid floating holiday time, plus a week and a half left of sick time I can use while my daughter recovers and when we need to go visit Adam’s mom. I know how lucky I am to have such an understanding and empathetic manager, with a job that has a flexible schedule that could allow me to be here for my family. Hopefully. Hopefully it can all work out. Maybe one of these days we can have some semblance of normality brought back into our lives, and me and my family can finally put ourselves back together again. Until then, I’ll just have to keep clinging to the rope I’ve found myself attached to, dangling precariously over an unknown abyss I’d rather not discover the inside of. Every time I ask myself, “How could things possibly get any harder?”, they do.

I am not okay
I’m barely getting by
I’m losing track of days
And losing sleep at night
I am not okay
I’m hanging on the rails
So if I say I’m fine
Just know I learned to hide it well

I woke up today
I almost stayed in bed
Had the devil on my back
And voices in my head
Some days, it ain’t all bad
Some days, it all gets worse
Some days, I swear I’m better off
Layin’ in that dirt

I know, I can’t be the only one
Who’s holding on for dear life
But God knows, I know
When it’s all said and done
I’m not okay
But it’s all gonna be alright
It’s not okay
But we’re all gonna be alright

I know one day
We’ll see the other side
The pain’ll wash away
In a holy water tide
And we all gonna be alright

~Jelly Roll

Life’s been heavy, these last few weeks. This is so fucking hard. It’s not alright. This isn’t okay. For the life of me, I can’t understand why? When will we get to the other side of this hell? Will we even make it? And, if we do survive this, what does our life look like? What and who will be left standing?

Last Thursday, I went to parent teacher conferences. MJ’s teachers always love her. They told me many of the same things I’m used to hearing at these conferences. She’s a great student. She’s polite and respectful and kind. This time, there was a “but” after those initial comments. BUT, Mj has periods of intense and overwhelming sadness, and that concerns us. Mj and I spent time talking together, when we left her parent teacher conferences. We had a plan, and we both felt good about it. This was figure-out-able. We’ve got this. We arrived home, and were both giggling as we opened the front door and stepped inside. The moment we entered, a mixture of anxiety and sadness bombarded our senses. The air all around had suddenly grown thick with the energy and emotions that radiated from just inside our living room, where Adam was seated, and it penetrated both Mj and myself. I don’t remember making the walk over to Adam. The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of him, asking what’s going on? He told me to sit down. I dismissed his request, and gently but firmly demanded the answer to my question. He had hung up the phone, after speaking to his mom, just moments before we’d gotten home.

Adam’s mom has been going to multiple appointments, visiting many different doctors and having a variety of tests and procedures necessary to gather all possible information about her cancer. Every time she’s received the results, it’s been not good. She’s taken on every single challenge and refused to be discouraged by any obstacle she’s encountered. Until Thursday. Thursday, she had gone for a full body scan. We’d learned the size of the tumor in her breast was very very large, 2 days earlier. Her doctors had sent her for the full body scan, because the size gave them new concerns.

I’m really struggling to write what comes next, here.

Her cancer has spread within her body. They can do chemotherapy, in an attempt to prolong her life, but her cancer is terminal.

I stood in front of my husband, absolutely stunned. I couldn’t think or move, until he began to cry. He cried like I’ve never heard him cry. His wailing sobs, as his body shook uncontrollably, gave me a view of the raw, pure, unrestrained pain he was experiencing. For a moment, in the most vulnerable minutes I’ve ever witnessed my husband inside, I saw the brokenness he couldn’t hide from me. All I could do was hold him. I wrapped my arms around him and repeated over and over, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.

Adam didn’t stay like that for long, although I’m certain he’s merely masking his unrelenting pain, as he always does. I so wish I knew how to make things get better. If only I could. I’d do anything. I’d give my life, if that prevented my family from ever again feeling the kind of agony I see and feel from them.

I’m overwhelmed. I’m exhausted. I’m fighting like hell, anyway. My family needs me. My husband needs me to be strong for the moments he can’t. My babies need their mama.

It’s not okay
But we’re all gonna be alright
I’m not okay
But it’s all gonna be alright

Woke up late today and I
Still feel the sting of the pain, but I
Brushed my teeth anyway
I got dressed through the mess and put a smile on my face
I got a little bit stronger

Ridin’ in the car to work and I’m
Tryin’ to ignore the hurt, so I
Turned on the radio
Stupid song made me think of you
I listened to it for a minute
But then I changed it
I’m gettin’ a little bit stronger
Just a little bit stronger

It doesn’t happen overnight, but you
Turn around and a month’s gone by, and you
Realize you haven’t cried
I’m not givin’ you an hour or a second or another minute longer
I’m busy gettin’ stronger

I’m gettin’ along without you
I’m better off without you
How does it feel without me?
I’m gettin’ stronger without you

And I’m done thinkin’
That you could ever change
I know my heart will never be the same
But I’m tellin’ myself I’ll be okay
Even on my weakest days
I get a little bit stronger
I get a little bit stronger

I’m just a little bit stronger
a little bit, a little bit
A little bit stronger

~Sara Evans

I had the day off, yesterday. Today, I had early meetings, so I had to go in a couple hours sooner than usual. I left the house at 7:30, and got home from work right at 6:30 this evening. I decided tonight was a good one for a “fend” supper. Everybody heated up some leftover sloppy joes, taco lasagne, and ham and cheesy potatoes from the other suppers I made this week. I’m sitting down in my basement watching the latest episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I am off this Saturday, and we’re closed on Monday for Martin Luther King Jr Day.

Monday is also Inauguration Day. Former president Donald Trump is about to become our president once again. Honestly, I wasn’t particularly surprised he won. Americans have grown sick and tired of “the establishment” and all their bullshit. Personally, I am glad to see him surrounding himself with people like Tulsi Gabbard, Elon Musk, and I really like RFK Jr. I don’t agree with his views on everything, but I appreciate his passion and dedication to serving Americans. Same with Tulsi, and even folks like John Fetterman. It makes me hopeful that genuine people are reaching across the political aisle. It is a serious risk, with real consequences, for them. So, I respect them for it.

We got an update from Adam’s mom, last night. She has triple negative breast cancer, which is the most aggressive form to get. It has also spread to her lymph nodes. She will be getting a port put in, so her chemo can begin, next week. They will be taking lymph nodes out, to further test, too. She told us she had gone and picked out two wigs, yesterday. Her chemo will be very aggressive, and she was informed her hair will be gone by the second treatment. I so want to be able to do something to help her. I decided to buy her a Samsung galaxy smartwatch. She uses a Samsung phone, so I figured that made more sense than an Apple Watch. I thought it could maybe give her a little peace of mind. It has fall detection and SOS, as well as detailed health monitoring features. We picked out a card to send along with the watch.

It’s perfect.

I need to go take a shower, pack Adam and Mj’s lunches for tomorrow, and get to bed. I’d like to have some energy to get laid again, tonight. Last night was the first time we’ve had sex in over a week. I never would’ve believed our sex life could dwindle so much. It’s not because we don’t want to. It’s just not so easy, anymore. One or both of us is either exhausted, or emotionally drained from the chaos that clutters our minds most of the time. Anyway, I’m planning to get some tonight, so long as there’s nothing extra to mess up the little headspace I’ve cleared especially for some passion and intimacy with my husband. The kind with no clothes on. We share lots of intimacy, in plenty of other ways. I miss being able to enjoy that kind, as much and as often as we always did before, though.