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.