So love ’em while you can 
Cause life’s too short not to give a damn 
Love ’em while you can 
Cause you might not get a second chance to 
Tuck in your babies, make sure they’re okay 
Hold ’em tight cause this life’ll get crazy 
No one knows when the good Lord’ll take ’em by the hand 
So love ’em while you can

~Rayne Johnson

There are some specific moments, in life, where we’re blindsided by such unbelievable and unexpected events. It’s like our world stops spinning. The sudden jolt, as everything abruptly comes to a halt, it knocks you right on your ass. It’s the strangest thing, too. The way everyone around you, your neighbors, strangers at the supermarket, coworkers…they’re all still moving about. No one around you, outside those also experiencing this loss of gravity, even seems to notice your desperate struggle to find some solid footing. You do your very best to pretend the oxygen hasn’t been completely sucked from every room you’re inside. Trying not to lose your shit, in this foreign and hostile place you’ve found yourself in. Part of you wants to scream, to cry out, to beg and bargain and plead, with who and whatever might possibly listen. Part of you feels so damn angry. You want to punch a wall, or cuss some unsuspecting idiot out. On some level, though, you know it won’t make a difference. Things are never, ever, going to be the same. Life, as you’ve known it, isn’t going to feel familiar. At least, not for the foreseeable future. Maybe, never.

We’ve been inside the haze of yet another one of those events. Truthfully, I think I’m stalling. Even here, in my writing. Because what I’m about to share is still something I’m not quite sure I’m willing to accept, for myself.

Adam and my teenage niece was in a horrific car accident. She was with a friend, who entered an intersection, as a semi truck was passing through it. Her friend was ejected, from the car. Our niece was wearing her seatbelt, but sustained multiple serious and life threatening injuries. Her neck was broken. Her spleen ruptured. Several ribs, along with other bones broken. The most critical of all, are her brain injuries. She has several brain bleeds, and severe swelling. She’s on life support, and all we can do now is pray for a miracle. She’s our sweet Mj’s cousin, and they’ve always been close. I look at my babies, and I can’t begin to fathom the pain of seeing one of my own children like that. The way everything around you must shatter, and the helplessness of not being able to make your baby better. There’s such frustration, in knowing there’s nothing any of us can do, except pray.

I know you don’t really know my family, my niece, or her parents, but please say a prayer for her. I’ve never asked for anything like this, but I know it matters, and for now, this is the best I can possibly do.

Hug your loved ones. Hold your babies a second longer. Love them, while you can.

It’s always the beating of fear in my heart
Something I can never show
I’m never defeating what lies in the dark
Hiding in the truth of

How far it goes
How deep it flows
Nobody knows, nobody knows
Invisible, Invisible
Nobody knows

Torn apart by the undertow
Another loss is another blow
The loneliness in this bucket is all I know
If I could set fire to this vulture in my soul
Watch it glow and call it art
Maybe this sickness would leave my heart

But until then I won’t hold my breath again
Bikini Bottoms wearing thin
I’m going in

I’m battling my demons
Bury them so deep inside of my mind
Tryna find some peace in
Pain without a meaning
In my life
I’m battling my demons tonight

~Jeris Johnson & BOI WHAT

I have officially been weaned off of my antidepressant. For the first time, in nearly two and a half years, my feelings and emotions aren’t being guarded by medication. My sleep doesn’t require a sedative. I no longer feel dependent upon the protection those tiny pills afforded me. I’ve also gained some weight. The scale tips in at just barely under 100 pounds. 99.6 pounds, to be precise. Which is another genuine reason to celebrate. I’m proud of myself. I honestly didn’t believe this was possible. I couldn’t imagine my mind and body healthy, ever again. Like truly healthy. Not propped up, barely being held together. The stubbornness in my nature isn’t just a curse. It’s also a blessing, because it’s where sheer grit and determination eventually always manage to find a foothold.

I’m damn proud of who and where I am, right now. It hasn’t been but a couple of weeks, since I took my last Mirtazapine pill. Already, the changes are noticeable, and holy shit it’s incredible. I’m beginning to feel like me. I’m finding so many pieces and parts of myself. Ones I’d either forgotten about, or believed had died along with all else, I’d lost to the flames that burned so much of what used to be mine. There’s this silliness, and real joy, beyond any I’ve experienced in far too long. It’s hard to put down in words, but it’s the truth. I have laughed more, in the last week, than I probably did in at least a hundred of them. There’s this amazing relief, like releasing weights I wasn’t even aware I’d been carrying. I’m not afraid. Not a prisoner inside my own mind and body, anymore. Nothing else holds power over my home, my family, or me. Not a pill. Not a single self righteous, ignorant, spiteful prick.

Life is certainly far from the versions of perfection I used to imagine, or pray for. That’s okay, though. Right now, in this moment, I’ve got more than enough. I can actually, it turns out, live without plenty of the things I thought my very existence depended upon. My value and worth aren’t found within those who insist on calculating these things, for themselves. This is a lesson it’s taken my whole life, til very recently, to come to appreciate. The measuring sticks, held up by folks who refuse to count what doesn’t exist exclusively for their benefit, mean diddly squat. I am so much more than the still, framed snapshots, chosen and displayed at the discretion of others. It isn’t my responsibility to ensure they see me. It’s not up to me, whether they’re willing to look beyond any of the doctored images, portrayed as if that’s who I really am. There’s no point in fighting to convince anyone to love me, to want me, to appreciate me. I can’t prioritize absurd, bastardized opinions, any longer. What matters is right here. My focus is being directed towards that. God, does that feel good.

I’m happy. I’m grateful. I’m doing pretty fucking fabulous. And, I absolutely mean that.

Having said all of this, my next blog post will likely detail the all but guaranteed return of a not so gentle touch of my husband’s hand, reacquainting itself with my behind. There’s a story, there, and I’ll tell it… Just as soon as I confess it to him.

Made a wrong turn once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that’s alright
Welcome to my silly life

Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss No-Way-It’s-All-Good
It didn’t slow me down
Mistaken, always second guessing
Underestimated, look, I’m still around

Pretty pretty please, don’t you ever ever feel
Like you’re less than fucking perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel
Like you’re nothing. You’re fucking perfect to me

You’re so mean, when you talk about yourself
You were wrong, change the voices in your head
Make them like you instead

~Pink

Things have been pretty damn okay. My sister, and my little niece, were here for about 10 days. We had a blast! It was hot, so we swam in the pool a couple times. It was also a lot of fun, just sitting in my kitchen, and having someone to chat with. Someone who knows and understands me. Somebody I don’t need to explain myself to, because she already knows my heart.

I recognize I’m sort of an “acquired taste”. Pretty much every friend I’ve ever made, at some point got the impression that I was cold, or just a bitch. I’m not defending it, or saying that it’s wrong, but the truth is, it takes a long time to peel back all my “layers”. It’s not that I think I’m particularly complicated. I’m not shy, either. I don’t intend to be distant, or closed off. I really can’t help it. Only with enough time invested, will anyone begin to gather up enough of the pieces to get a decent picture of who I am. Maybe more importantly, why. For as long as I’ve been aware, that’s simply the way I was. If anything, life’s increased the amount of time it takes for someone to truly know me. It’s hard for me to trust others, or to let them in. Every time I’ve been let down, lied to, betrayed, and deeply wounded, has made that even more difficult. As badly as I do crave the comfort of friendships, I can’t let my guard down. It’s not something one could force, or fake. I definitely don’t want to be disingenuous.

Getting to know me happens in small doses, given the benefit of patience and understanding. I will expose my hopes and dreams, my worries and fears, my hurt and heartbreaks, slowly. Eventually, if you’re still willing to hang onto those drips and drops, without spilling them, to shame, blame, and discard me, you’ll find I’m capable of pouring myself out. I’ll protect your secrets. I’ll listen and help in any way I can, from day one. I just won’t allow my own needs to be met, unless and until I feel safe. I’d much rather suffer in silence, than do so in front of an audience, who might mock my pain. I will not pass out knives, and then expose my back, making myself a helpless victim! Fuck that.

I’m not insensitive. I’m not uncaring. I’ve got so much real, pure love. I want to share something meaningful. I want nothing more than to make a difference, to leave something positive for others. That’s the contradiction, the part that’s easy to miss. It’s not that I think you’re not worth it. I’m afraid I won’t be worthy.

I’ve got no interest in replacing the empty spaces, that someone else used to occupy. It isn’t that easy, anyhow. I’ve accepted that there are doors that must remain closed, but I also need to take a chance on opening new ones, if I want to have company. I wish that were easier for me to do, though.

♥️

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 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 you feel like you earned it? 
Would you live with a purpose? 
Or ever known your own strength 
If you never had hard days

~Brantley Gilbert

Life has been busy, lately, but in the best way. I sort of “catch” myself, in the process of making sweet memories, and become acutely aware that, at least inside this moment, I feel “full”. Almost as if I’m viewing myself in third person. I can observe not only who and what’s around me, and where we are, but also reflect on what, where, who I am, and how “she’s” doing. How “she’s” feeling, right now. It almost surprises me, discovering that what didn’t seem possible anymore, in fact could be. That in spite of the intentions of some, or of theirs and even my own assumptions, I can actually be happy and “whole”. Surrounded by old, as well as new faces, I’m still capable of finding fulfillment. I’ve had a lot of fun, this Summer. I’m less guarded, overall. No longer carrying the weight of all those heavy emotions, everywhere I go. Things I didn’t think I’d ever be able to set down, if only for a little while. I won’t pretend it’s never there. It isn’t always, though. For me, that’s an incredible blessing. I can do more than merely survive. I don’t need to always be cautiously playing defense, just waiting for the next heartbreak. I can relax, relatively confident that those around me aren’t plotting a new offensive attack, against me. I’ve got people who truly support and encourage me. People who comfort and protect me. People who genuinely do celebrate my successes. I’d like to say that no doubt or worry remain. I’d be lying. It’s very hard for me to trust absolutely. There are times, when my mind’s voice whispers reminders of how, and by whom, I’ve been so deeply hurt. Those seeds of fear can quickly grow, and easily convince me to question my safety. It’s much less scary, for me, to “shut down”. To close myself off to any and everyone. I think that’s why it’s so unexpected, peering into my own life, and seeing a girl who isn’t fearful and burdened. A girl who isn’t constructing illusions, trying to at least appear content in her skin. Happy, even. I’m not concealing my sadness, hurt, worry, and doubt. Hiding them behind the socially acceptable mask I wore, because of how afraid I was to let anyone really see me. Not because those feelings are gone, but because they no longer haunt my every waking moment. Hell, they’d even chased me into my sleep. The best part is that I’m not consciously putting effort into preventing the negativity from entering. I don’t have to consider it. It doesn’t require my constant attention, allowing me virtually no privacy. For the most part, if I’m honest, that seems to be contained within designated, specific areas. I do open the doors they’re behind, when I need to. It’s a rare occasion, these days, that those doors are flung open by what’s inside, or at the insistence of anyone who enjoys disturbing my peace. I don’t expect it all to disappear. I’m pretty sure there’ll be no getting rid of it. Even if I could do that, I wouldn’t. It occurs to me, banishing all the hurt feelings would mean giving up large parts of my own humanity. You’d have to be heartless, a narcissistic megalomaniac, to actually be able to banish people or things from memory, altogether. I can’t simply “turn off” the love I’ve had for somebody. I don’t hate anyone. I wouldn’t even say I don’t love those no longer welcome in my life. I truly believe I do yet hold real love, for them. Some more than others, but still, there’s love. While some will stay relegated to my past, I’m not wishing they wouldn’t continue to exist, just because it’s not with me.

I’m grateful for the opportunity to chase the new hopes and dreams I’m imagining. I’m so very thankful for what I have, and who I get to call my family and friends. I’m glad to see all the good, around me. I’m proud to know I can be an active participant in the good they count as their own blessings. I’m not just a burden. I’m a wife, a mama, a daughter, sister, and a friend. It was a great try, but hate, hurt, and selfishness haven’t won.

Mikayla and Brooklyn’s dad came to visit, last week. We had everyone, including him, over. It had been rainy, so we decided on making BLT’s for supper. My dad, and his girlfriend, were here. All my girls, and a couple extra friends, came. We all swam and played cornhole, later. We also celebrated Mikayla’s birthday. I got stuff to make s’mores and pudgie pies, over the fire pit. It was just so darned nice, having fun with everyone! It makes me happy, that my oldest girls’ father can spend time with us, and we all can get along and have a great time. I know it means a lot to my girls, having everyone they love all together. I even caught a photo of a rainbow!

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.