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

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

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

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

~Tracy Lawrence

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

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

Everyone has gone home, and I’m tired!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Somebody take me to church

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

~Coey Redd

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Hardy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~David Foster

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

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

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

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

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

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

Merry Christmas, y’all ♥️

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

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

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

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

~New Me (FJ Outlaw)

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

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

Slanging that wood hot damn paul bunyan 

I aint gotta bike but I’m constantly stuntin

Got Os in the back of the deal like Onions 

Coolin in a louis bandanna

Pourin that mud in a orange cream fanta

Groupies tryna fuck but them hoes be outta luck 

Because you can’t touch this like MC hammer

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

Everywhere I go you know I fucking keep a hammer 

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

I say my prayers

And I go to sleep 

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

As I live my life 

And I try to be 

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

Please stop asking for the old me 

Because I swear that you don’t me 

You don’t want to call the police

I don’t want to make your throats bleed

When I was young my PaPaw told me 

I can’t let nobody hold me

Please stop asking for the 

Load together unloaded

You know the pistol is holding your pictures

If I pull it out Ima blow it 

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

Its felony I’m parolling

I’m crimin schemin and planning to take over planets 

With all that I am

I’m Trying to get rich for the fam

And once I finish I’m going to hell and 

I say my prayers

And I go to sleep 

Old Me (FJ Outlaw)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Audra Mae & The Forest Rangers

(Written by Josiah K. Allwood, published 1885)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Dierks Bentley

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

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

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

We made pudgie pies, on Mikayla’s birthday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Martina McBride

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

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

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

Happy Birthday, United States of America 🇺🇸

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

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

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

~Aaron Watson

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

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

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

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

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

I’m okay as fuck, today.

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

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

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

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

~Bailey Zimmerman

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

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

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

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

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

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

Certainly the most destructive vice, if you like

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

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

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

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

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

You gotta be the change that you wanna see

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

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

Sees the man in the mirror any clearer than I do

And I can bring the pain if you wanna beef

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

Well, it ain′t gonna be me

Ain′t no way I’m accepting defeat

I won′t stop ’til that reflection is me

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

Choosing the directions of the paths we gonna take

So you can get pissed off whenever you get lost

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

You can get right or you can get left

You can live life, or you can await death

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

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

~Durte (Feat. Hard Target)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, you’ve been writing them checks

That ain’t nobody gonna cash

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

But what goes around comes back around

You said lies on the loose

You thought nobody would catch

The way you’re reeling them in

Has got me throwing them back

Until I’m faded, until I’m wasted

‘Cause you ain’t who you were before

I don’t know you anymore, I see you

It’s still hard to believe it

I lost it all but my mind

The only thing that helps is time

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

Someone save me, I’ve gone crazy

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

~Colt Graves

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

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

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

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

I made mistakes

I’ve done some dirt

I messed up and I’ve caused some hurt

The [woman] I am standing here today

Ain’t the same person that I used to be

I’m still a sinner

And I’ll never be a saint

He knows that

Cause He made me this way 

Red letters written on a page

Left down here for me in a sinner’s heaven

~Willy Kay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Kane Brown & Jelly Roll

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

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

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

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

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

I’m okay.

I’m worthy.

I’m valuable.

I’m beautiful.

I’m loved.

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

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

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

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

~Breaking Benjamin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Brantley Gilbert

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Michelle Branch

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Crucifix

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

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

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

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

1.5 lbs ground beef or turkey

Minced onion

1 1/2 cups ketchup

4 Tbs worstershire sauce

4 Tbs brown sugar

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Shinedown

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~The Jane Dear Girls

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Zach Bryan

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

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

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

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

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

Goodnight y’all

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

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

~Nu Breed & Jesse Howard

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

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

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

Lately I’ve been wondering

When it’s all gonna end

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

And I ain’t got much more in me

I’m running outta steam

And there ain’t no sleep for the wicked

So I’ve just been doin’ me

And so far it’s safe to say

That I haven’t been doin’ so well

~Chris Hosier

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Jelly Roll

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~Sara Evans

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

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

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

It’s perfect.

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

I see your fire and brimstone
That billboard sign on the road
But you can’t scare me to heaven
With gasoline on my soul

This that backroad baptism
Weed smokin’, syrup sippin’
Whiskey river carry me home

I’ve been known to find my kind of people
That ain’t at home underneath church steeples
You’d be surprised the places I find Jesus
That ain’t the regular crowd

I’ve been down and out
I’m better with the lost
Than the found
My solid ground
Is better with the lost
Than the found

Lord, won’t you hear my prayers?
I’m better with the lost than the found
It’s where I find my solid ground

~Jelly Roll

This has already been a long week, and we’re only halfway through Wednesday! I got a phone call, early Monday morning, from Mj’s best friend’s family. Her best friend (T) had intentionally overdosed and was rushed to Vanderbilt hospital. She had taken a bottle of Tylenol, and it wasn’t discovered for hours. Her kidneys and her liver weren’t doing well, and we were incredibly afraid. These girls are still SO young! They haven’t even finished middle school, yet. My sweet Mj was reeling from this, and I wasn’t sure how to help her. T is actually doing much better now, physically.

Monday evening, Adam’s mom called. She was calling to update us on the latest news regarding her breast cancer diagnosis. Her doctors are very concerned, so she’s meeting with her surgeon and oncologist tomorrow. They intend to get her treatment started right away. My heart aches for T and her family, and aches for my mother in law. But, it’s torturous seeing my baby and my husband so afraid and sad. I know we aren’t supposed to, but I can’t help but ask myself why? Why does it seem like every time our broken pieces are finally starting to heal, something, or things, show up just in time to bust through the progress we believed we were making? Why won’t this onslaught of awfulness end? Why is life, or God, or karma, or whatever the fuck is behind the wheel, intent on steering us off the road we’re trying so hard to build over and over again? When will it be over? What do we do? How do we fight? Where do we go?

I’m struggling with anger that forms in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, for me. I’m frustrated, because it seems impossible to escape the hurt that plagues my family. I exert all my efforts towards helping my family get well, but it’s not enough. I can’t fix anything, because shit just won’t quit falling apart. I’m pissed off, to be back on my ass after just barely gathering the strength and courage to stand up, every fucking time. My anger grows, and fuels pure hot rage, if I can’t get it under control. I daydream about finding a cozy place. One I can be content and happy inside, and then remain there forever. If only I could draw from my memories, selecting a time when everything felt beautiful and right. I think I would be perfectly willing to trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday, if I could stay there. I wonder if that’s what Heaven is like? No worries. No regrets. No sorrow. Only prefect days and nights for eternity.

I’m not considering harming myself in any way whatsoever. Not on purpose, anyhow. Clearly, I have a problem with maintaining health and wellness. That certainly isn’t my intention, though. I want so badly to find a way out from under the dark clouds that form over us everywhere we attempt to find shelter. I sometimes wonder, is it me they’re after? Am I bringing this rain and by proxy, soaking everyone I love in it? Then, I think about what a narcissistic thought that really is. While I am responsible for my actions and reactions, I do recognize I’m not to blame for every painful situation my family and I face. As much as I probably would, if I could, I know I can’t write or rewrite anyone else’s story. Hell, I’m not even in charge of my own. I wish I could use some sort of magic pen and eraser to create all the joy and goodness I desire for those I care about, while removing every tear they’ve shed, along with all the disappointment and heartbreak they don’t deserve. All I know how to do is be there for them. I try to foster my own well being, because I know I need it to be able to give them support, encouragement, hope. I can’t waste the precious little I am able to gather inside my own “cup”, by pouring into people or things that aren’t worth it. I very much want to use my time, energy, and resources for the ones who need and value those things from me. I am failing my family, otherwise. I can’t stand to see myself let them down, because I’ve used up what I had to give, and drained my “cup” empty. Instead of crying about yesterday, or worrying myself sick over what may or may not happen tomorrow, it’s time to turn the majority of my focus on today. What do I need, today? What do they need, today? What can I do to make today better for all of us? Tomorrow, I can ask these same questions, and maybe even have answers.

What do I need, today? I need to let go of my anxiety and fears of disappointing people at my work, if I’m not there. That’s my need right now, because the next question concerning my family’s needs is easily answered. They need me. They need me to find myself again, and to be the wife and mom they’re being deprived of while I’m too busy pouring myself into a job I don’t even care about, and coming up empty for the ones I care about most.

What can I do to make today better for all of us? Fill my “cup”, and pour into my family.

Just wanted to leave this here. I think it’s the first slideshow I’ve only smiled as I watched without the familiar ache that usually comes as I view them, in much too long a while. We do find some happy together. We’re picking up our broken pieces, and we’re building something new and different. While some parts simply cannot be mended or replaced, we will fill the vacancies with something new to love, as best we can. There are some parts that are in the process of healing. Parts I am only recently discovering could be mended. I think, in my grief and despair, I lost faith in everything. I couldn’t see how any of the things I cherished would ever be salvageable. My whole world had been damaged, and much of it irreparably. Not all of it, though. I discarded all the pieces, in my disbelief they would fit into the new me and this different life of mine. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t have to let go of all that mattered to me, because some was gone. Maybe I was punishing myself? Whatever the reason, I’m motivated to sort through the mess and to pick back up as much as I possibly can. I want to do things I used to enjoy. I want to spend time doing things that make me feel like me. Simple stuff, like turning on some music while I clean and organize and decorate my home. Like baking with my children. Like taking Oliver on a walk. As easy as that might seem, I have built roadblocks for myself that prevented me from easily finding my way back to those things. I made myself too busy and too distracted to have the time. I’m ready to make time, now. So, I’m actually learning to dance in the rain. I am finding hope and just enough faith that this storm will pass. One day, we’ll again be able to bask in the warmth of the sun shining brightly upon us. Every so often, that sunshine does peek through these clouds. It reminds me that this too shall pass. That’s something I spent a lot of time convinced just wasn’t possible. Slowly, in nearly unnoticed tiny steps, I’ve managed to move forward. Those steps, however small, add up. Suddenly, I’m able to look back and see that we have moved toward a much more comfortable place. Although the storm isn’t over for us yet, it will be. I just have to keep going. Eventually, we’ll get there, and then it’ll be time for a whole new adventure.

❤️

And I’m never all alone ’cause I’m always in my mind
It’s feeling like a war that I never wanna fight
It’s a never-ending cycle, maybe I’m a psycho
Every single night though, I’m always in my mind so
Don’t tell me I been wrong ’cause I don’t know what’s right
I’m living in a sad song that keeps me up at night
Don’t tell me I been wrong

Do it by my lonely and don’t let no one in
Nobody console me, I’m praying it’s the end
I’m torn and they can’t sow me and nobody can mend
I’m screaming at the church, “Is there somebody you can send?”
‘Cause I feel like it’s hell, smiling, nobody can tell
I’m on my knees praying so much it’s looking like I fell
And I don’t really wanna keep making sad songs, making me feel bad
Hiding crying eyes from my baby, God please come bless [me]
Don’t tell me I been wrong

~OverTime & Krizz Kaliko

We got some snow here, on Friday. We were all off work and school, due to the predicted snowstorm. It was a lot of fun, just hanging out with my family. We played some games. Everybody had a snowball fight. I made sloppy joes/nachos, for supper. I loved so much about that day. I can’t help but ache at least a little bit, though. Everyone’s smiles just aren’t quite as big as before. Or, maybe it’s just me?

We absolutely do have a great time, together. It’s just never the same. I know I have to get right with that. It’s so hard not to think about what once was, though. I’m trying like hell.

I watch that video, and I see the great big grins. I hear the laughter that used to be the music I danced to every single day. Today, it’s a mixture of songs that grace my playlists. Some days are better than others. It hasn’t been a bad day, today. Yesterday was even better than today. I’ve just been thinking is all.

I went to work, this morning. I took a real pretty photo of the snow and the trees, on my way.

I’m at the beginning stages of a cold. My whole head’s congested and my throat hurts. I made fiastadas for everyone, for supper. Now, I’m fixing to sit under a warm blanket and watch some old reruns of the tv show, Roseanne.

There’s a black bird perched outside my window
I hear him calling
I hear him sing
He burns me with his eyes of gold to embers
He sees all my sins
He reads my soul

One day that bird, he spoke to me
Like Martin Luther
Like Pericles

Come join the murder
Come fly with black
We’ll give you freedom
From the human trap
Come join the murder
Soar on my wings
You’ll touch the hand of God
And He’ll make you king
And He’ll make you king

On a blanket made of woven shadows
Flew up to heaven
On a raven’s glide
These angels have turned my wings to wax now
I fell like Judas grace denied

On that day that he lied to me
Like Martin Luther
Like Pericles

Come join the murder
Come fly with black
We’ll give you freedom
From the human trap
Come join the murder
Soar on my wings
You’ll touch the hand of God
And He’ll make you king
And He’ll make you king

I walk among the children of my fathers
The broken wings, betrayal’s cost
They call to me but never touch my heart, now
I am too far
And I’m too lost

All I can hear is what he spoke to me
Like Martin Luther
Like Pericles

Come join the murder
Come fly with black
We’ll give you freedom
From the human trap
Come join the murder
Soar on my wings
You’ll touch the hand of God
And He’ll make you king
And He’ll make you king

So now I curse that raven’s fire
You made me hate, you made me burn
He laughed aloud as he flew from Eden
You always knew, you never learn

The crow no longer sings to me
Like Martin Luther
Or Pericles

~The White Buffalo & The Forest Rangers

These are two of my favorite scenes from Sons of Anarchy. The first, because it so perfectly illustrates my own struggles, in processing all the conflicting emotions I feel after the hurt and the betrayal of people I’ve loved. In a metaphorical sense, I’ve had to “kill” them much like Jax did his mom. I have to let go of the future I believed in, and people I expected to be there. I picked the second clip, because it also beautifully captures the anger that overwhelms me, sometimes. I’m angry at any and everyone I’ve welcomed along the path that’s led me to this place I’m in, and I look at them and I think, Look what you did to me! What’s happening to me? What happened to me?

I’ve only begun to realize that much of this frustration around feeling like I’ve lost myself, is not necessarily a result of others wrongdoings. Who I am is actually a choice for me to make. No one else has the power to control the way I think, feel, act, and move on. Those things are mine to decide.

These last several long months, I’ve agonized over who and what I’ve lost. I’ve been trying to figure out who I am without them. So much has changed. I’ve gone around pretending to be someone I know I’m not. I act interested in things I’m not. I say things I don’t mean. I do things I don’t want to do. I smile when I really want to cry. I get angry and lash out because I’m scared, and too afraid to admit that to most anybody else. I keep silent when I want to speak up. I play a variety of characters for everyone, attempting to think, do, feel, and act in the ways the character they expect would.

Recently, I’ve recognized a sort of spark that’s been begging to be ignited again, within myself. I have enormous fears about allowing that to happen. Yet somehow, I’m finding just enough “fuel” to ignite that flame. I feel it growing, and it gives me strength and courage I wasn’t convinced I’d ever get back. I have an opportunity right now. I’m scared as hell to fail, if I take it. I consider what a fool I’ll prove myself to be, if I can’t make it work. I think of how badly it hurts when people pretended to cheer me on and celebrate my successes, only to abandon me when I fell down. I also wonder, what would future me be saying to me now? I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to my own question.

In this life, we are given opportunities to plant and cultivate the tiniest of seeds we’ve sown for ourselves. We can’t know when or how those opportunities will present themselves. They just do. Maybe the timing isn’t the most convenient? Maybe there are a thousand reasons you can think of to let it pass by? Somehow, I’m absolutely positive there will be regret, for chances not taken. Choosing not to seize any and every opportunity that is given will almost certainly lead to a lifetime of questioning what if. What if I hadn’t given into my fears? What if I had just believed in myself enough to take a risk on what could turn into something amazing. Something I knew I was capable of. Something I may spend the rest of my life never being offered another opportunity to do, and one day die never realizing a dream that might’ve been.

I’m standing here today, with my toes barely dipped into an ocean full of possibilities. As safe as I feel, testing the waters, I’m fully aware of a choice I must make. I have to dive in, convinced in my ability to swim, while acknowledging the possibility I might sink instead. Or, I can choose to stand on the edge of the unknown, and allow my fear of it to prevent me from ever taking a chance on myself.

When you try your best, but you don’t succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can’t sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can’t replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

~Coldplay

I had my second therapy appointment, this evening. I talked about something I’d heard on a podcast, this past week. The person on the podcast said that most people with PTSD don’t have it just because somebody hurt them. We all get hurt. It happens because they encountered someone who wanted to hurt them. That had hit me hard, because for me, that spoke volumes. I told the therapist an example would be my mom. As far back as I can remember, she could be so kind and generous and thoughtful, but as quickly as if a switch was flipped, her eyes would completely change. She would look at me and she hated me. I never understood why or knew when it would happen. I didn’t understand there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent or change it, either. I tried so hard to say and do and act everything I believed would “bring her back”. When that failed to work, I had no doubt it was because I had failed. Something was wrong with me. I was bad.

He asked me what music young me listened to, and what she liked to wear. I described myself as having flare jeans with Doc Martin boots on, and baby blue hair clips in my hair. The Backstreet Boys or N’Sync would’ve been playing their songs on my stereo. Then, he asked me what would I say to that girl if she walked into the room with me now, with her baby blue hair clips and her little Doc Martin boots on… Tears instantly stung in my eyes. I could see that young girl. I knew what she was thinking. What she was feeling. I knew all her secrets. I knew every single thing about her. I knew exactly what she needed. She needed to know that her nose isn’t too big. That her hair is beautiful, and I’d show her how to work with her curls rather than desperately trying to brush them out. She needed to be wrapped in a hug and told I love you until it was no longer a shock to get these things from someone who meant it. Maybe even she would get annoyed with me for constantly reminding her of them.

The therapist and I discussed all this and more, until our hour had passed. Afterward, I was standing in my kitchen, making another cup of my vanilla cappuccino, when a thought suddenly formed and it washed over me in such a way, I was rocked by the profoundness in it.

What if future me, 20 or so years from now, is sitting on a couch with tears streaming down her face because she’s thinking about all the things she wishes present me could know about herself? Things present me so needs to hear and really believe.

And then I considered, what does present me need?

And then, I sat down, because all I knew was that I needed to write these thoughts. I’m not yet sure the answers to my own questions here. However, the simple fact that I’m asking them of myself, for myself, is in itself a huge deal. Perhaps present me truly doesn’t understand what exactly it is she needs right now. If future me loves present me as much as present me loves past me, though, I’m already finding something that matters a whole lot to me. And, unexpectedly, I’m even giving it to myself in this moment.

You’re broken down and tired
Of living life on a merry go round
And you can’t find the fighter
But I see it in you so
We gonna walk it out
And move mountains

And I’ll rise up
I’ll rise like the day
I’ll rise up
I’ll rise unafraid
I’ll rise up
And I’ll do it a thousand times again
And I’ll rise up
High like the waves
I’ll rise up
In spite of the ache
I’ll rise up
And I’ll do it a thousand times again

For you
For you
For you

~Andrea Day

This morning, Mj came with me to my doctor’s appointment. We sang along to music, on the drive, and had fun just spending some time together. Even if it was just going to a boring appointment.

What we had no way of knowing, was that someone we love was also at a doctor’s appointment, at the very same time. Only, hers didn’t go like my mundane checkup visit went.

This evening, after Adam and I both got home from work, we got a phone call. It was his mom. His mom, his 2 brothers, and our niece and nephew had just been here with us, over Thanksgiving. We all had a great time together. His mom had been keeping a secret, waiting to find out whether it was one worth sharing, because she didn’t want us to worry. She’d found a lump in her breast. This morning, she drove herself to the appointment for the biopsies. I say biopsies, because they’d discovered more than one tumor in her breast. She has been diagnosed with breast cancer. These biopsy results will be in, in a few days, and will determine exactly what her treatments will look like. She is going to be starting chemotherapy, radiation, and will also likely have surgery.

His mom is genuinely one of the toughest people I’ve ever known. Her courage is unmatched. She and I spoke, after she talked with Adam, and she told me she has had zero anxiety over this. She says she knows the next two years are going to be hell, but after that, it’s going to be alright. She’s going to be okay.

I’ve mentioned it before, but Adam lost his dad to cancer, when Mj was just a baby. Three short months later, his best friend since childhood also died of cancer. His dad had only just turned 50 years old, when he passed away. His best friend was only 25 years old. He left behind his wife and baby girl, who is actually just a few months older than our Mj is. My husband has had enormous pressure on him, these last several months. He had, and has, an incredible amount of shit, really painful shit, he’s carrying on his shoulders. Learning of his mom’s cancer diagnosis certainly must add more weight than I can imagine. I don’t know how he does it.

I don’t mean to make any of this about me, not at all! But, what I’m realizing is that I’m going to have to put my big girl britches on. He needs me. The very last thing I should be is another burden he has to carry. It’s time for me to put myself back together, and be strong enough to be able to be the wife he needs and deserves. We’re partners. Sure, he’s the husband, with husband roles and responsibilities. That does not mean that I, as his wife, can’t or shouldn’t be willing and able to provide the tenderness, comfort, strength, and care for him like he always does for me. It doesn’t mean he won’t, or shouldn’t, need me sometimes. I can’t physically carry him the way he does me, but I sure as hell can support him in any and every other way he needs me to. He never shows it, but he’s hurting too. He’s been just as heartbroken as I have, maybe more. Adding on the news about his mom absolutely cannot be easy on him. Though he doesn’t admit it, I know him, and I can feel the heaviness in his heart. I see the concern he’s hiding behind his tough exterior. I love him so much. That love propels me forward, with speed and strength I couldn’t possess otherwise. I have to be okay. No more excuses to remain parked inside my own sadness. It’s time for me to get it together, and allow him the security of at least knowing he doesn’t need to carry me too, right now.

As for Adam’s mom, she wouldn’t ever ask, but I’m going to do whatever I can to be there for her, also. If she needs someone to take her to appointments, to take care of her, or just to listen, I’ll always be available. Like every other obstacle that’s been thrown at us, we will get through this. All of us.

And give me something to believe in
If there’s a Lord above
And give me something to believe in
Oh, Lord, arise

~Poison

I’ve got some big things being set in motion. Some good things, I think.

I was home, today. I did a lot of housework. I scrubbed baseboards, vacuumed and swept and mopped all our floors. I have an appointment with my regular doctor, tomorrow. Mj is going to come along. Her best friend (T) is coming to stay the weekend here, too. I’m planning to go into work, around 1:00, tomorrow afternoon. I had a phone meeting, this evening, that I’m honestly kind of excited about. I can’t even describe the relief that I feel, just having some sense of control over my own life again. Being in a position to make decisions about where I’m going, how, and when. There are still many unknowns. Of course, I recognize none of us can possibly know for certain what our tomorrows hold. We make plans anyway. It’s simply making plans and trusting I’ll have opportunities to see them through, which gives me this quiet calm I’ve so missed. For too long, I didn’t have the courage to attempt to make any real plans for myself. I lacked the faith required to do so. In order to make plans, we must first believe they could happen. I had little to no confidence in what my tomorrows held. I felt powerless against the forces pressing against me, insisting I stay down. Daring to challenge what was already yanking me any direction except where I wanted to go, had seemed futile. I grew tired of fighting it, and I understood utter hopelessness for the first time in my life. I learned that, no matter how deep a hole I’ve been stuck inside, and then managed to crawl back out into the sunlight…life contains many “holes”. And, there’s always one deeper I could fall into at any moment. I can’t plan for it. I won’t see it coming. That realization and the fears of finding myself trapped inside an even bigger hole, before I’m even able to climb from this one, have been holding me back from choosing to take steps forward on my own. Sure, I can be carried, pushed, or pulled. It takes an enormous amount of bravery for me to actually begin to put one foot in front of the other, aiming high again.

I’m looking up and moving on. As much as I can right now, anyway.

I switched from Spotify to Apple Music, back in June. While I was putting some music on earlier in the afternoon, I noticed there was this “year in review” featuring my music choices since I’d started using Apple Music. For me, song lyrics are almost like therapy. I have songs that will forever be the background music played as my mind replays moments and memories that span my lifetime. There are songs for everything. Lyrics that speak the emotions I can’t express. Every single experience, whether it’s the depths of my pain or my highest of highs, has a song featured in its highlight reel. There’s a unique playlist for every year of my life, too. This is mine, for 2024.

Maybe 2025 will bring a whole new playlist, that’s filled with music I’ll look at next year and think to myself, this was when I accepted what was and started daring to imagine what could be. Maybe this year will be the year I turned things around and accomplished some big dreams of mine. Maybe Niko Moon’s “No Sad Songs” will be prominently featured in my mind’s replay of 2025. The fact that I’m able to believe in the possibility of these maybes is proof positive, I’m not completely hopeless anymore. That’s not nothing, either. It’s enough for now.

I just wanted to say, I appreciate all the comments from everyone who takes the time to leave me words of encouragement and comfort. I haven’t done a good job of answering them, but I read them all, and it means more than y’all could ever know. Thank you for continuing along with me, through this season of my life, and for sticking around even when I’m not able to give much back here. ❤️

~Matt Nathanson

My phone memories made a compilation of photos from New Year’s Eve over the years. 💔❤️

We did have a good time, last night. We played “Cards Against Humanity”, and had some laughs. It’s the first time we’d gotten that game out, since the last time we played it with Justin and Jackie. It’s the little things like that, that are why I often describe even the happy moments as being always coated in sadness. We all stood outside, on our deck, and counted down the last seconds of 2024. Fireworks all over the neighborhood went off, as everyone rung in the new year. Adam kissed me, and I fought the tears that threatened to escape from my eyes. It hurts more than I knew I could hurt, missing so many people who should be here. The people we always celebrated with. People we won’t ever share our holiday fun with, again. People we can’t lean on, while we go through the most challenging time of our lives. There were cheers and kisses. There was laughter and silliness. Even so, the vacant seats always reserved for them are impossible to ignore.

I wish I could make it stop. I would give just about anything to fill these empty spaces. I’m really, really trying. Sometimes, my sadness morphs into anger. I become frustrated, because there’s nowhere to “put” my emotions. I can either take them out on my husband and children, or stuff them down as deep as possible. I do my best to cover up my true feelings, because acknowledging them only ends with a flood of all the pent up anger, hurt, sadness, grief, helplessness, and hopelessness that spills out onto any and everyone in my path.

I had a pretty good day, today. I loved being able to spend the day cleaning and tackling lots of things I’ve been meaning to get done. It feels so good to have all our laundry folded and put away. I made meatballs, scalloped potatoes, and apple fritters for supper. I got the kitchen all cleaned up. I need to make Adam’s lunch, for tomorrow. Then, we’ll go take our shower. There’s been a space between Adam and I, lately. I can’t explain it, and I don’t mean for it to happen. Not consciously, anyway. But, I’m distant from everyone, including my husband. I’m closed off. In hiding, as if I’m hibernating until this storm finally passes. There’s nothing more to say to them. It’s like being trapped in that old movie, Groundhog Day. I’ve tried everything I can think, to wake up in a tomorrow that doesn’t look exactly the same as yesterday. It’s always the same, though. So, what more can I possibly say, that hasn’t already been said about a thousand times? I want to be silly with Adam. I want to want to run my hands over every inch of his body, and feel the ecstasy that came with his hands and his lips on mine. I want to wrap my hands and lips around his manhood, and to moan with pleasure as he moves inside me. Hell, I even kind of want to remember what it’s like to be picked up and bent over his knees, and then spend the following day reminded, every time I sit down! I want to push him just hard enough to get a reaction, because at least that’d be something other than what we’ve been doing together. Coexisting. Writing these things has me pondering, now. Adam and I are either going to fuck or fight, tonight. I want a glimpse of the man who could give me goosebumps with just a look. I miss that guy, and I’m very aware it’s me who’s been shutting him out.

Trials but I persevere, through hard work and drinkin’ beer

So I ain’t trying to hear that bullshit, bitch I’m workin’ here

It’s been a long day and I ain’t done yet

And all I know is come and get you some

I learned the hard way, I did it my way

But like they say, boy life goes on

~Adam Calhoun

I had a strange day at work, today. Not bad, just weird. Most days, we get a list of calls we need to make to certain customers. Occasionally, the phone number we have for them is wrong, but holy moly, I think half of my calls connected to businesses today! I started recording, just so I could prove it.

I closed up, and got home. It’s been mid 60’s outside since before Christmas, but a cold front blew in today. It’s cold out, now. I’ve got little smokies in the crockpot, and I made a veggie tray, a meat and cheese and cracker tray, and got lots of chips and dips/salsa for everyone to eat for supper. We’ve got friends coming over to hang out and play games. It’s New Year’s Eve. I hear lots of fireworks going off already. I’m off work tomorrow and Thursday, so I’m glad to have a little time at home.

I intend to do my best to keep this positive attitude going, tonight, so we can all have a little fun.

Happy New Year ❤️

I know one day we’ll finally make it but right now it’s a struggle
The bills piled up on the counter got us drowning in troubles
Another bottle of red, for the anxiety and thoughts in my head
No helping hands, everyone we loved left us for dead
Feel like I’m dying in this living room
Feel like I give all I can give
Feel like I want to quit until I look at you
Realize I live for you
This broken heart, I’ll mend for you
Don’t care how this story ends, long as it ends with you
We’ll make it through, we’ll make it out, we’ll make it better way
If I got you, I got no doubt that we’ll see better days
I know it’s scary, but how we’re living’s just momentary
Boy, I swear

One day we’ll dance in castles
And right now won’t mean a thing
When we break shackles
Imagine life with no chains
A thousand battles, a millions scars
Broken arrows inside our hearts
Pain’s a candle that’ll burn away
So none of this’ll matter one day
We’ll say it was you
It was me
A fairy tail no one believed
It was you
It was me
One day the world’s gonna see us dancing in castles

So many problems I don’t know what to solve first
A bottomless bottle is what I need ’cause it all hurts
A bunch of empty promises from people, just all words
Feel like I hit rock bottom, but yet some how I fall worse
I’ve sent up a million prayers, but I feel like I’m not heard
Supposed to be a man, but I feel like I’m not hers
‘Cause I can’t provide all things she deserves
If I was her, I’d throw me to the curb
But some reason she stays and loves me through the hard times
Might not have much, but her love is all mine
Right now we’re scared, how we’re living’s just momentary
Girl, I swear

One day we’ll dance in castles
And right now won’t mean a thing
When we break shackles
Imagine life with no chains
A thousand battles, a millions scars
Broken arrows inside our hearts
Pain’s a candle that’ll burn away
So none of this’ll matter one day
We’ll say it was you
It was me
A fairy tail no one believed
It was you
It was me
One day the whole world’s gonna see us dancing in castles

~Brabo Gator & Savannah Dexter

Truth be told, I don’t have to work. Adam makes more in one week than I do in a month. I don’t hate my job, but I do seriously miss my old one. Most importantly, I’m having a hard time knowing I’m not here for my girls like they need. Mj worries me so much. I’m afraid for her to be left alone here all day, while I’m at work. She’s hurting and feeling all the fear and uncertainty, the heartache and loss, that we are. I’m having an inner battle with myself about what to do. Adam is supportive of whatever decision I make. He’s encouraged me to quit my job, or to at least cut back, if that’s what I want. He assures me that he’s got us. He tells me all the things he misses from when I was at home, and how much he’s realized he’d taken for granted before. I think my greatest concern is that if I really did quit working, what if I just couldn’t be the wife and mama I used to be? What if they’re expecting for me to dance in the kitchen, while I’m baking something yummy, but there’s no music and I’m not able to dance anymore? I guess, in my mind, it’s less painful knowing I’m not taking care of them because I’m not home to, than to think of being home but still not there for them. I don’t know. This is just something I’ve been weighing on. I’ve actually been approached by some advertisers who’d like to buy ad space here on my blog. If I could continue to make the “fun money” I’ve been using on my kids, and be here for them, that would be amazing! Still, my anxiety reminds me of all the what if scenarios that plague me anytime change of any sort is contemplated. So, I’m not quite sure yet what I’m going to do.

In my job interview, I described myself as an “introverted extrovert”. I enjoy talking with people, and challenging myself, but I reach a point where I need to be alone so I can recharge. It sort of exhausts me, if I can’t find the time I need to do that. I’m often so desperate for a little time to be alone with myself, where I don’t need to entertain anyone or be interrupted, I’ll find myself avoiding things I normally would’ve participated in with my family. If they’re playing a board game, or watching a movie, many evenings I simply don’t have the mental and emotional energy to join in. That leads me on a spiral of feeling guilty and ashamed, and then unable to get that rest and recharge I need, even if I am “hiding” alone downstairs.

Adam consistently does any and everything he possibly can to help me. I don’t know how he can be so strong and brave? How he manages to always be here for us, and never makes me feel like a burden. He’s unquestionably devoted to us, to me. I’ve no doubt whatsoever that his family, that I, am his priority number one. Somewhere within me remains a spark I’m fighting to ignite into the flames that once provided those same assurances about my devotion to my family, to him. One thing that hasn’t faltered for one single moment, is my burning desire to show my love for my family, so that they can always find the comfort from me they deserve. I sometimes wonder, why do they want me? What needs am I even meeting, for them? Why would anybody as good and pure and incredible as they are pour so much love onto me? I wish it were possible to know for certain which paths I should take. Which direction is right for my family, for me. I’m afraid there will come a day when their patience and grace for me run out. That I’ll make the wrong choices, or be unable to measure up, and end up completely alone.

I did some crafting, today. I made a Christmas countdown for my sister, because she mentioned wanting one. Then, I just played with some other ideas. I find it rewarding, to take these plain and bare things, and turn them into something beautiful.

I miss making my house feel like home. I miss the texts from Adam every evening, telling me he’s heading home, and already having supper cooking. I miss the smell of our clean home, after I had done the cleaning. I miss having scented candles burning. I miss the pride I always had, knowing I was taking care of my family.

❤️

The girl I used to be
She was confident and free and happy
I don’t recognize myself
Or this person in the mirror
Staring back at me

I’m fighting voices in my head
Voices in my head telling me that I’m not enough
I’m not pretty and I’m broken, I’m not worthy of love
Voices in my head telling me that I should give up
I’m fighting voices in my head

Words, they can cut so deep
Why do I care so much what people think?
I wonder who I’d be if I didn’t have insecurities
I don’t know what to think, I’m losing all control of reality

Stop it, I can’t take another minute
I’m going crazy with these voices that are spinning in my head
Tell my head to listen to my heart
And my heart says

I’m done with voices in my head
Voices in my head, I know that I am enough
I am pretty, I’m not broken, I am worthy of love
Voices in my head I know that it’s time to give up
With all these voices in my head

~Jana Kramer

This evening, I talked with a therapist.

I went to work, this morning. When I closed up, I drove home, and waited for Mikayla to finish getting ready. Her and I had made plans to go do a little shopping. We went to Victoria’s Secret. They’re having their semi annual sale, so that was fun.

I’d scheduled my appointment, days ago. I hadn’t decided for sure whether I’d actually attend. I showed up, though. He wound up spending over 20 minutes past our allotted time, with me. Honestly, he was pretty great. He wants to build on learning some version cognitive behavioral therapy skills as we go forward. He asked me to name 3 things that describe my “safe place”. I did, but for the sake of brutal honesty, I admitted my thought process that followed. But that’s gone. That place doesn’t exist anymore. I don’t exist, that way, anymore. It isn’t that I consciously just “decide” to have those thoughts. They’re the truth, as my mind tells it.

He also helped me to understand why I’m struggling so much to eat. I know it’s not normal or healthy, but I literally go days, sometimes weeks, without eating any real food. It isn’t at all because I’m concerned with my body image. I know I’m too thin. 84 pounds isn’t healthy. I’m almost never hungry. In fact, the very thought of eating usually repulses me. If I attempt to force myself, I instantly gag. The textures, the tastes. I may as well be trying to eat glass. He explained, when our bodies remain in “fight, flight, or freeze” mode for too long, our brains are so focused on that, our mechanisms that control and announce things as basic as hunger simply shut down. Our bodies are so focused on what we continue to perceive as imminent danger, the typical signals we’d be receiving just can’t get through. I like to at least understand why I’m feeling and doing the things I don’t seem able to control on my own. None of this will be magically cured, or fixed, just by knowing. It does at least give me comfort, that this isn’t all only because I’m too weak, or lack the willpower, to control and change on my own.

My “core beliefs”, or the things I tell myself, are things like I’m not worthy. I’m not enough. I don’t deserve to feel better. I’ve failed the people who mattered most. Not because I woke up one day and decided to feel these things. Because nothing else makes sense, to me. Why else would I be here, lonely and miserable? Betrayed and abandoned by so many of the people I loved the most.

I guess, I’m searching for the truth. If I’m not seeing something, show me. If I need to hear something, tell me. I’m looking for some direction. Which way is up? How do I begin to trust that to take even the smallest steps would be to move forward, and not wind up discovering I was once again, in fact, racing further backwards in my clumsy attempts to escape this awful place I’m in? Maybe I’m not good enough. But, is it possible to learn how to be? I used to think I was good, and aspire to be better. Great even. Now, I’d really like to be enough. To be able to give my family something besides these empty plates I keep serving them. It’s as if I’m doing everything I know how to feed my family’s hunger for the things I once was able to so readily serve them. Or, believed I was. No matter what I do, the plates come up empty, though. All I can give them is…nothing. I want more than anything to have something good and right to give to them. I don’t want someone else to do it for me. I want to learn how to do it myself, for them. I will admit, somewhere inside, I’m craving for the deliciousness that life once was for me. First, I need to know my family is fed. Then, I might be able to contemplate how I could satisfy that hunger that still remains deep within me.

I know this journey will be a long one. Fraught with difficult and painful roads I’m going to have to travel through. Mountains and valleys that will require a strength I’m not yet convinced I’ll be able to muster. I do believe I took the first step, tonight. That’s not nothing.

Court is in session, a verdict is in
No appeal on the docket today just my own sin
The walls cold and pale, the cage made of steel
Screams fill the room, alone I drop and kneel
Silence now the sound, my breath the only motion around
Demons cluttering around, my face showing no emotion
Shackled by my sentence, expecting no return
Here there is no penance, my skin begins to burn

So I held my head up high
Hiding hate that burns inside
Which only fuels their selfish pride
All held captive out from the sun
A sun that shines on only some
We the meek are all in one

I hear a thunder in the distance, see a vision of a cross
I feel the pain that was given on that sad day of loss
A lion roars in the darkness, only he holds the key
A light to free me from my burden and grant me life eternally

I cry out to God, seeking only His decision
Gabriel stand and confirms, I’ve created my own prison

Should have been dead on a Sunday morning, banging my head
No time for mourning
Ain’t got no time

~Creed

About 16 and a half years ago, I met my husband, Adam. What I’ve never said here, is that I also met his infant son, Wyatt. He was just 8 months old. Wyatt’s birth mom abused drugs and alcohol, even during her pregnancy. Adam and I alone have raised him. His birth mom has spent the entirety of Wyatt’s childhood giving birth to babies who’d also be raised by other people, while she bounced between crack houses and halfway houses, never really giving up the junk she insisted on putting in her body. I made every birthday cake, gave him his first haircut, and took him to his first days of school. I keep a lock of the blonde curls from his first haircut and his first lost baby tooth inside my hope chest, alongside my girls childhood memories I hung onto. I loved him always. As fiercely as I ever loved my girls. Wyatt is 17 years old now. He has consistently made choices that have spiraled into a chaos that is beyond our abilities to manage. He has an enormous sense of entitlement, and his arrogance is astonishing. I chose never to write about how unbelievably cruel and violent he had become, most especially toward his sisters. I literally couldn’t trust him alone in the pool with Mj, because I was truly afraid he could drown her. The harder we fought to save him, the more he dug his heels in. Unbeknownst to us, he spent the better part of a year planning and preparing to set us up, so that he would no longer have to deal with Adam and I preventing (or attempting to) his fall from the cliff he insisted on dangling from. He was abusing substances. He was sleeping around, having unprotected sex. He was stealing, cheating, fighting. For him, lies were much more beneficial than truth, and his lies are a big reason for the turmoil we’re grappling with now.

Jackie was very well aware, and both Adam and I often had confided in her and Justin. We were desperate for answers. For some ideas of what to do, where to go, how to get a grip on this. I don’t know if it was alcohol? Our mutual friends tell me it was motivated by jealousy. Whatever the reason, one night in May, Jackie chose to not just claim to suddenly believe his lies, but she chose to encourage them. To reinforce them. And finally, to use them to attempt some sort of fucked up coup in an effort to oust me from my own family. She secretly recorded a conversation she initiated with me, as she accused and blamed and shamed me, all while knowing the answers behind every “question” she asked. After I had shared all I ever had with her. My family. My babies. My fears, my struggles, my secrets…It didn’t work as she must’ve anticipated, except for a small minority of people who were willing and eager to just accept the bullshit being fed to them. That the fiction being told was even plausible for anyone who knew me just devastated me. I guess I’m numb over it now, though. That, or my heart’s already broken into so many pieces, it’s impossible to notice which ones once fit together so easily.

I may have already said more than I should, but I needed to say it tonight.

Wyatt isn’t coming home. Jackie and Justin, Adam and I, will never be friends. It’s not about forgiveness. It’s about protecting the precious few good things left over from this storm we never ever could’ve saw coming. Maybe we should have? But, we didn’t. And now, we’re all doing what we can to make our “prison” feel like home. I really don’t want to hear any opinions or suggestions about how or why we should be doing more, have done more, for Wyatt. I haven’t even scratched the surface here, really. We cannot continue to be fuel for his ego driven trip to a hell we are powerless to prevent. All we are capable of is watching and waiting. Clinging to the tiny strands of hope we managed to hang onto, and praying that maybe just maybe, one day. One day, he will make the choice to do better. To be better. And, the moment that happens, of course we would do everything possible to support him. It simply isn’t up to us, now.

This has been the most painful experience of my life, and it isn’t over. Even without the parts Jackie contributed, I’d have still needed my best friend more than ever. Instead, I found out I just wasn’t worth what I believed I was.

This is my pain. The wreckage I live inside, every second of everyday. This is the truth. This is who, what, why, and where I am today.

Once bitten and twice shy
I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye
Tell me, baby, do you recognise me?
Well, it’s been a year, it doesn’t surprise me
“Happy Christmas,” I wrapped it up and sent it
With a note saying, “I love you,” I meant it
Now I know what a fool I’ve been
But if you kissed me now, I know you’d fool me again

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes
I’m hiding from you and your soul of ice
My God, I thought you were someone to rely on
Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, you gave it away You gave me away
This year, to save me from tears
I’ll give it to someone special

ll give it to someone, I’ll give it to someone special
Who give me something in return
Hold my heart and watch it burn
I’ll give it to someone, I’ll give it to someone special
I thought you were here to stay
How could you love me for a day?
I thought you were someone special
I gave you my heart
I’ll give it to someone, I’ll give it to someone

~Wham!

My birthday is exactly two weeks before Christmas. I had that day off, and spent it at home. I did some crafting, some baking, some cleaning, and I made a really yummy supper for my family. The following weekend, Adam and I took the kids out to eat, and “celebrated” my birthday. As for birthday wishes, I had only one. Though I can’t see it, don’t know where to look, or really even believe it’s possible anymore, God all I hope for is to find pure joy in my family’s eyes again. Looking at those I loved most in this world, and seeing genuine happiness reflecting off them, was always the source of my own joy. Believing without question that I’d done something right, and that contributed to the comfort and peace shone in the laughter that once filled every corner inside our home. I stare into the eyes of those left beside me, and their pain permeates. I see them doing their very best to smile for me, for each other, but even the occasional moment of spontaneous laughter is still soaked in hurt and grief. We all feel it. We all see it in each other’s faces. I just don’t know how to give them these things we all so desperately need and want. The new televisions, Apple Watches, iPhones, and all the other crap I carefully picked out and wrapped up for them simply can’t fill the emptiness inside any of us. I’ve spent the last seven months pleading with God, heal these wounds! It seems that prayer isn’t meant to be answered. Not yet, anyhow. As these days turned into weeks, and then months that will soon be an entire year, my faith He’ll hear me is dwindling. I wonder, why? What did I do so entirely wrong that this punishment is making everyone close to me bleed? I replay every mistake, misstep, and bad decision I’ve made and I wonder, is this the reason?

My sweet Mj is struggling. I don’t know how to make it better for her. She’s damn near unrecognizable. Her temper is short. Her tears come easily. Her laughter is increasingly more and more rare. I feel tremendous guilt, and partly because I know I’m not here for her like she deserves. I’m not here when she comes home from school. I’m not here when she doesn’t feel well. I’m not there for all her concerts and parties. Besides that, I’m not around emotionally, either. It’s just not possible to pour from a cup that’s bone dry. On some level I’m hyper aware of this, and it stands to reason I should be doing everything I can to fill my empty cup, so I could pour out something for my family again. It also seems selfish and wholly undeserved, to consider doing so. Why should I be allowed to feel better, when it’s me who’s to blame for giant pieces of this damage? If I caused this, or even contributed, it’s ridiculous to assume there should be anything other than what is.

I made a wish, anyway.

Merry Christmas, everyone ❤️

I lost a friend
Like keys in a sofa
Like a wallet in the backseat
Like ice in the summer heat

I lost a friend
Like sleep on a red-eye
Like money on a bad bet
Like time worrying about every bad thing that hasn’t happened yet

I know I’ll be alright
But I’m not tonight
I’ll be lying awake counting all the mistakes I’ve made
Replaying fights
I know I’ll be alright
But I’m not tonight

I lost a friend
I lost a friend
I lost my mind
And nobody believes me
Say, “I know that [she] don’t need me,
‘Cause [she] made a little too much money to be twenty and sad.”
And I’ll be fine without [her]
But all I do is write about ’em
How the hell did I lose a friend I never had?
Never had

I’m on the mend
Like I’m wearing a neck brace
Like I’m sleeping in my own place
Like I’m pulling all the stitches out of my own face

I’m on the mend
Like I’m icing a new sprain
Like I’m walking on a new cane
Like it’s been a couple days since I slipped and said something sorta like your name

I know I’ll be alright
But I’m not tonight
I’ll be lying awake counting all the mistakes I’ve made
Replaying fights
I know I’ll be alright
But I’m not tonight

I’m on the mend
But I lost a friend
I lost my mind
And nobody believes me
Say, “I know that [she] don’t need me,
‘Cause [she] made a little too much money to be twenty and sad.”
And I’ll be fine without [her]
But all I do is write about ’em
How the hell did I lose a friend I never had?

I’d apologize 
If I thought it might 
Make a difference 
Or make you listen
I’d apologize 
If it was black and white
But life is different
Just try to listen 
To me now

I know I’ll be alright
But I’m not tonight
I lost a friend

How the hell did I lose a friend I never had?

Never had

~Finneas

I’m down in my basement, surrounded by gifts I need to finish wrapping before Christmas. Every single part of everything I do by myself now leaves me with this empty and hopeless feeling. I ache as I look at pictures of my family when we were all happy. When life was simple, smiles weren’t forced, and happiness was a given. The holidays are hard, now. I’m not wrapping gifts for people I should be. I don’t hear the sounds of laughter around me, as I plan and prepare everything for Christmas. There’s no pictures being taken with genuine grinning faces of those that I love. It hurts real bad. I’m trying so fucking hard, too. I want to be me again. I want to see my husband and children filled with joy. I feel as if… Actually, scratch that. I know I’ve failed my babies spectacularly. They will forever be haunted by pain and trauma that leaves them spending their adult lives desperately trying to heal. My greatest goal was to give them a childhood they would never have to recover from. I always wanted so much to give them a home and family filled with love and memories of an amazing time growing up with people that never let them down. So much of what’s happened to them is because of me. While I can’t control anyone else’s actions, it was me who made the choice to allow people into my children’s lives. It is a serious mind fuck realizing how much of my family’s pain is my fault. How much of my own pain is caused by my inability to protect not only myself, but most especially my family, from the very same things I wasn’t protected from. I can’t rewind or undo anything, although I spend a lot of my time replaying things and wonder sometimes, if I could, how far back would I actually need to go? What could I have changed? What should I have done differently, exactly? As wrong as I was, I didn’t ever mean to be! I never intended to land here, or to have brought the people who trusted me down right alongside me. All I wish for now, is to know how to be the person my family deserves, and to give them at least something good and right. I don’t trust myself, though. It’s almost as if this whole time I believed that down was up, backward was forward, good was bad. And if that’s the case, is wrong right? Would hurting help? So, if that’s the best things for them, how do I do that? Maybe it’s me? What if the only consistent thing that underlies every one of their heartaches is…me?

I bought an obscene amount of gifts for my family, this year. I understand I’m trying to fill voids that won’t ever be replaced with expensive new things, but I do it anyway. I haven’t seen my husband or my babies truly content and “whole”, in as long as I myself have been broken into these tiny unrecognizable pieces. Everyday I fight to suppress the voice inside my head whispering, I’m miserable. I’m miserable to be around. I’m worthless. I’m a failure. I’m not a good person. If I almost forget these things for even a moment, and I almost begin to allow myself to find the smallest amount of hope, the voices in my head echo with urgency these “affirmations” of things I must remember so that I could maybe avoid letting my family down again. I want more than anything to contribute something positive. Positive for my family, and for everyone. I honestly believed I was capable of changing the world. I never cared to have my name or my face remembered, but that I could impact others in even the smallest ways, and that would create a chain of events that made the world a better place because I had been here. I was a narcissistic moron, to have thought I was actually that special. That important. I’m left with sort of an existential crisis, wondering where I belong. My intentions matter little, when my children are paying the price for my choices. However well intended, I was a fool. I made mistakes I fear one day they’ll all realize, and understand I am to blame for. I’m responsible for these consequences they have and will spend their lives paying for. I pray they can heal, and find their own paths that lead to something much better for them. I pray they can forgive me, when they learn how miserably I’ve failed them. The job I cared most about, that I put all the best of me into, was being a wife and mama. My best was not even close to good enough, though. For Christ sake, how many people had to leave me before I realized that?

I want to go home. I miss even people and things that are still here. Nothing’s like it was. None of us are who we used to be. It’s like we’re all strangers just existing alongside each other everyday. Pretending to be the people we were as much as possible, but fooling no one. I want to be a wife again. A mom again. A daughter, sister, friend. I want to live, not just exist. I have absolutely no idea how to do that, though. I want my life back. I want me back. I want my family to look and feel like mine. I want to belong. I want to matter. I want to believe it’s possible. To be able to see some sort of road map that might guide me towards finding my way back home. I’m not sure that place even exists anymore? My entire being yearns for the comfort that never failed to embrace me inside my favorite places, with my favorite people.

No one ever told me the price for my soul
Could never be bought back with diamonds or gold
Lay the hands that dealt me that others would fold
I spent all I had chasin’ dreams I was sold
I’m losin’ my control, my friends all turned foes
I’m haunted by pain I don’t show

I can’t never could be understood
Dance in the rain’s all I do good
So many flames on bridges I stood
I pray for change but don’t think I would
Now all that I gave was never enough
I reckon our ways are all catchin’ up
Can’t never could be understood
Can’t never could

~Savannah Dexter & Jelly Roll

Yesterday afternoon, as I drove home for my lunch break, I had a sad revelation. I wrote a blog post, somewhere around a year ago, and in it I wrote of the things that mattered most to me. What I hoped to be remembered for. What I was most proud of. Being a daughter, a sister, a wife, a mother, and a friend were things I cherished. I’m not my mother’s daughter, anymore. I changed my inner dialogue, some time ago, to say it that way rather than saying “I don’t have a mom”. I don’t belong to her. Just as she’s not mine, or in my life, I’m not hers either. Just like she made choices that separated us, and severed our relationship, I realized I had power too. It’s so hard to see it, when I’m covered in grief and aching over the loss of someone I loved. But, they don’t have ME, either. Maybe that doesn’t make them hurt like I do? I can’t ever know. That’s not the point, anyway. I’m not someone’s daughter, anymore. I’m not someone’s sister, anymore. I’m not someone’s friend, anymore. And, I’m not someone’s mom, anymore. I am still someone’s daughter, sister, friend, and mother. Not theirs, though. I do still matter to some someone’s. I can’t run and hide, even if sitting where I’m at right now hurts like hell. I can’t leave, because I have people sitting right here alongside me. They need me. They want me. They love me.

I can’t get into it, yet, but I’m going to try to describe what’s happened. What’s happening.

Imagine someone you cared about climbed up into a tree and refused to come back down. There’s a storm coming, with lightning, rain, and tornados inside it. You spend time trying to talk sense into them. You buy, find, or build them a variety of ladders they could climb down on. They refuse. You try a slide. You build stair steps. Nothing works. You bring in other people, who you hope can get this person to come down. Nothing. You beg and plead with this person. You get angry with them. You try everything you can think to do. You ask all of your closest family and friends for advice. You’re repeatedly being told you have GOT to get them down! And then… the storm hits. Lightning strikes are narrowly missing this tree they’ve perched themself high on. Strong winds are blowing debris all around. The rain’s making the tree slippery, and you’re so damn afraid. Finally, in your desperation, you climb to them, grab hold of them and jump to the ground. You know landing is going to hurt, but at least you’ve gotten them out of danger…

Or so you thought.

The next morning, the headline on the front page of the paper reads, “Innocent Person Tossed From Tree” There’s an entire article that makes it appear there’s a clear victim and perpetrator. It says YOU forced the victim into that tree. This victim was only in the tree because they saw a kitten that needed rescued. Then, YOU showed up and began harassing the poor victim for climbing the tree. There’s no mention of your repeated attempts to help that person. You’re described as a rage fueled villain who just wanted to punish that person for being in a tree. Nevermind the fact there was no kitten. No mention of the storm. Nevermind all the other people who witnessed the whole thing from the beginning.

And then, you discover who wrote the story. Who published it. Who it was sent to. Who read it. Who believed every word of it. There are many people who stand with you. Some even surprise you with their trust and loyalty. Others shock you with their ability to turn away from you, refusing to so much as consider there could be missing parts that make a big difference here. Or to at least reserve judgement until they’ve gotten a clear picture and much needed context around it. A few people absolutely break your heart, because they are unmoved by your pleas for help. They’re content to allow and even contribute to the torrent of hateful and cruel things being said to and about you.

What hurts the most is realizing they didn’t love me like I loved them. Because I could never…

Adam and I were talking, last night. I keep saying over and over again, I didn’t want this. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t choose who is still here with me OR who isn’t. Everything about where we’ve found ourselves makes me sad. I take no pleasure whatsoever in saying goodbye to people I loved. I miss them. I miss who I saw, when I looked at them. I miss how good I felt, when I believed they could see me. This isn’t about punishing anyone who hurt me. Adam said that if he could go back, he would never have let these people get close to us, possibly preventing what’s happened. I disagree. Like the song says, I pray for change but don’t think I would. If I could avoid where I’m at by changing where I’ve been, and who with, I couldn’t. It was all real for ME. I believed in what and who was around me. Maybe I was too stupid or too blind to see things clearly? What I saw was the most beautiful life I could ever have imagined being blessed with. Whether that was real or an illusion doesn’t change what it meant to me, or the memories I’ll never let go of, because in those moments it was very real, to me. I explained it to Adam like this, “if you got a terrible disease and the only way to save your life was to amputate your legs, would you wish to never have had legs at all? If you could spare yourself the pain of losing something you relied on, would you choose never to experience the memories made while you had it?” I feel like a whole lot of myself has been torn from me, but at least I knew what feeling whole was like.

I know I can’t take one more step towards you
‘Cause all that’s waiting is regret
Don’t you know I’m not your ghost anymore
You lost the love I loved the most

I learned to live half alive
Now you want me one more time

I hear you’re asking all around
If I am anywhere to be found
But I have grown too strong
To ever fall back in your arms

I’ve learned to live half alive
Now you want me one more time

It took so long just to feel alright
Remember how to put back the light in my eyes
I wish I had missed the first time that we [met]
‘Cause you broke all your promises
And now you’re back
You don’t get to get me back

Who do you think you are?
Runnin’ ’round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
Tearing love apart

You’re gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
Don’t come back for me
Don’t come back at all

~Through Fire

I decided to use a slideshow of my pictures taken over the last few months. Moving Mikayla into her dorm. Bedroom upgrades. Our new door and cabinet knobs. My house and the outside world around me moving into another new season, Fall. There’s also a random picture of my incredibly swollen foot/ankle taken in early September. I had a bug bite that seemed to heal normally, and then my ankle began to swell. Within a few days, the swelling progressed down into my foot and it began to look very purple. I finally went to the doctor, and it’s good I did, because I was diagnosed with “septic arthritis”. Which is a scary way of describing an infection in my joint. My doctor wanted to admit me into the hospital for IV antibiotics and steroids, but I convinced him to send me home with promises to immediately begin the oral steroids and antibiotics he prescribed, and that I would come back if my ankle didn’t look significantly better within a few days. It’s all healed now, but that was not fun. There’s a video below my slideshow. I had recorded Mj a couple weeks ago, after we found a pair of Adam’s dirty socks on the couch. She can make me laugh so hard! I often take one weekday off work and then work Saturday, instead. I like having a weekday at home, so I can do at least a portion of the things I never seem to have enough time for anymore. I’m going to meet all my targets, at work, this month. I’ve brought in new customers and new money over my target goals. I’ll receive a big bonus for it. At work, I’m known as “the bubbly one”. Everyone comments on my positive attitude, my smile, and my energy. I could most definitely have been a great actress, clearly. I have started crafting again, recently. I hadn’t so much as looked at my craft supplies, since May. I didn’t even really go downstairs much, for months after. I’m gradually trying to find my way back to the things I once so enjoyed. Oh, and Mj also got some eyeglasses, in August. My poor girl’s got terrible eyesight now. I think she looks adorable, though. Finally, there was hurricane Helene, last month. We did have some flooding, here, but nothing like further East Tennessee into North Carolina. Mikayla, in Knoxville, was okay too.

I’m going to address my reasons for the song I chose as my title, this time. It has come to my attention that there is at least one someone accessing my blog, and this person (I’m actually not talking about Jackie) sent me a text message a week ago specifically mentioning they’d read my post, and that they wish I’d consider therapy. First of all, who do you think you are!? Why does my well-being matter one bit, to you? And Jesus Christ, who the fuck would be doing any better than I am, in my shoes? I get out of bed every single morning, and I do everything I have to do to take care of myself and my family. I don’t need some stranger to teach me how to be okay, because I’m not supposed to be okay. This hell that I wake up and go to sleep inside every single day is my reality, and no amount of therapy is going to change that fact. The only way out of this is through it. I have no way of knowing what lies ahead. Things are very likely to get harder, along this journey I’m traveling. I have been hurt, betrayed, in so many ways by so many of the people I’d have expected would’ve been the very ones who’d be here to help me through this shit. There are days when I’m so incredibly overwhelmed with sadness. There are also days when anger seems to consume me. Somehow, that anger becomes fuel for me. My rage at this situation, for the people who’ve so badly hurt me, propels me forward. I’m motivated by it. Determined NOT to allow this and them to erase me or the shreds of hope that I cling to. How am I possibly going to accept help in gathering up all of my broken pieces, and putting them back together, from the same people who so easily became the hammers used to break me? Am I really expected to trust y’all to give a single solitary fuck about how, when, or whether I can become whole again? Even in my fiercest anger over this, at no point have I ever considered using the “ammunition” I’ve accommodated over these years knowing people I loved. I hold secrets capable of breaking apart relationships and hearts alike. Many secrets that are probably obvious to those who know what they’ve trusted me with. But also, secrets that no one even knows I keep for them. Some of them are unknown to the very ones they’re about and would seriously damage their relationships, career, and/or their hearts. Still, they’ve stayed locked away. Despite all the utter betrayal I’ve felt, my loyalty and genuine love for people who’ve mattered to me remains. I never have or would intentionally inflict this kind of unyielding pain on anyone, let alone those I cared about. I am first to recognize my own imperfections, and I own my mistakes. I’m not a bad person, though. Flawed, of course, but not anywhere near the monster some were quick to believe in. As I stood right there in front of you, and bared my soul for you, all you could see was an evil portrait of me, painted by someone intending to inflict the kind of pain only the most vicious of monsters could deserve.

I forgive all of you.

I can’t trust most anybody anymore, though. So, you know who you are, please stay out of this space I’ve created for ME. It’s the one place I can come to and be brutally honest with myself. I can’t control who reads my words here, but if you ever truly cared for me, get out of my head. This is mine. I maintain control over near nothing. I’m forced to move along like a leaf that’s been blown from a tree in the Fall. The wind decides my path. I stare helplessly at the obstacles before me, begging to just please land somewhere safely. What I see, how I feel, and who I choose to tell my story to, are things I alone should own. I honestly can’t know whether or why some people even care if, when, or where I’ll land. I’m terrified of being tossed to the mercy of the wind like this again. As much as it hurts to admit out loud (or in writing), you are dangerous. I cannot trust that mine or my family’s safety is what motivated you to search for me. Invading my personal space is not how you help me, if that’s what you intended. It’s equally possible that reading about my struggles to survive give you a twisted satisfaction in knowing I’ve been sufficiently torn to pieces that barely resemble the person I used to be. As unrecognizable as I must seem, from me to you, ditto.

I’m going to go take a shower with my husband. Then, I’ll call Mikayla to tell her goodnight, tuck my kids here in bed, and slide into the comfort of my husband’s embrace. I’m strangely finding myself craving the pleasure only Adam’s body can give me. I suppose I’m hoping to escape my heartbreak that’s been poured out here, even if it’s only for a few moments.

Goodnight, y’all.

Yeah, time just slips away

I live life like a renegade drifter
Losing myself on the open road
Running from the pains of a sinner
‘Cause ain’t no Band-Aid for a broken soul

The Devil’s steady tearing out the best of me
Screaming “fair game” but he must’ve lied
‘Cause now there ain’t too much left of me
But I ain’t slowing down until I’m justified

‘Cause I done been steady swingin’
At the bottom of a hangman’s rope
Maybe it’s a sad plan dreaming, I’m a madman screaming
But I can’t stop believing there’s hope, oh Lord

Like a dead man walking back from the grave to find where I went wrong
Everything I love is dead and gone
Every night I sing this dead man’s song
I got hell on a trigger, got a bottle of Jack and I’m right where I belong
Stuck in between heaven and being dead wrong
So from here until I’m dead and gone
I’m a dead man walking

This life has got me barely holding by a single thread
Gripping on my pistol, squeezing triggers until my finger’s red
A lot of folks they like to judge, nudging then they hang their head
Hypocrites that don’t give a shit
No common sense don’t bring the dead

Name calling and pointing fingers and laying blame don’t bother me
As long as y’all don’t touch me, my family and my property
My prophecy wasn’t prodigy, in the ground I’ll probably be
But I’m standing up and I’m raisin’ hell so won’t you come and follow me?

I’m a cornered up, pissed off, cracker in a cage
Get you one coin missed call, take it to the grave
I guess I’ll take the mask off and let you judge me
But the looking didn’t last long ’cause bitch I’m ugly

I can’t blend in, eyes cut you to the bone
Now my covers been blown, I’m supposed to be alone
Like a hairpin trigger kill, I don’t know we’re wrong
But I keep singing this song and I’m stuck under a stone

Like a dead man walking back from the grave to find where I went wrong
Everything I love is dead and gone
Every night I sing this dead man’s song
I got hell on a trigger, got a bottle of Jack and I’m right where I belong
Stuck in between heaven and being dead wrong
So from here until I’m dead and gone
I’m a dead man walking

~Crucifix

It’s been an absurd amount of time since I’ve written. I’m sitting in our basement, trying my damndest to write with these long ass acrylic fingernails. I’ve never done more than paint my nails. Now I’ve got fake ones, painted a pretty shade of my favorite color, pink. I suppose it’s a perfect symbol of what my entire existence feels like, these days. Fake. At work, I fake happy smiles, as I make small talk with customers and coworkers alike. I’ve made lots of “friends”. They tell me all about themselves, and their lives. I don’t share myself, though. In fact, I don’t let anyone in. Not even my husband, really. He sees more than anyone else does, but I can’t seem to fully open myself up. The only way I make it through each day, is by compartmentalizing. I hold all of my secrets, my worries, my struggles inside. And, I keep them neatly tucked into separate spaces in my mind, because that’s what keeps me sane. That’s how I make it through the day. It’s the only way I can show up to work and be the person they’re expecting to see. It’s how I’m able to come home, fix supper for my family, and be the wife and mama they need me to be. I wouldn’t call myself depressed. It’s more like I don’t even know who the hell I am. I’m not me. This isn’t my home. Those aren’t my kids. That’s not my husband. I’m in some fucked up alternate universe, where things look familiar, but aren’t the same at all. We’ve redone our kids’ rooms. Adam and I got a new bed. We replaced all our old ugly doorknobs with new ones. They’re “antique bronze”, what I’d been wanting. We also replaced our kitchen cabinet handles with fancier black ones. We moved Mikayla down to her dorm, at the University of Tennessee, in August. She comes home every other weekend. She facetimes me most every day, too. She has a real hard time leaving, every time her weekends at home come to an end. It breaks my heart to see her cry so hard. I LOVE that she wants to spend time with us, but I hate how difficult it is for her to leave. MJ is in therapy, now. She has had a hard time with all these changes, too. All of my babies are hurting. They’re struggling, same as I am. Same as Adam is. So, I have to be strong and brave.

In June, I spent three and a half hours alone in my car, parked on some back road in Kentucky. I sat there sobbing, clutching my Smith and Wesson handgun, and fighting with myself about whether to pull the trigger. I had turned off the location on my phone, because I didn’t want it to be my family who had to find me. Obviously, I didn’t follow through. That was the moment that pushed me to begin my job search. I told myself I needed purpose. On my very first day at my job, I learned the password to our computers. It’s “YouHavePurpose”. Kind of ironic, huh? I sometimes think, maybe in an alternate universe, I DID pull the trigger that day. What if I actually did die, that day? Is the person I was gone? How do I wrap my head around this new version of who I am, who my family is, and what my life looks like?

Adam is very aware that I’m hurting, and it’s clear that I haven’t been myself. Whoever that was? He lets a whole bunch of stuff slide. Except, once. There was one morning, about a month or so ago, when even this new me crossed too far over the line. It was early, and we were arguing in the kitchen, over a stupid coffee cup. I got so frustrated, I told him, “fuck you”. Later that morning, when I was at work, he had text me. His text mentioned consequences for talking to him that way. I won’t pretend I wasn’t nervous. I wound up getting stuck at work for nearly an hour past close, which made Adam worry. I imagine that worry did soften him, at least a little bit. His anger had melted away, as had mine, by the time we arrived home. Still, I got spanked pretty hard. Adam sat with me first, and really listened to MY side of what went wrong that morning, though. He genuinely wanted to understand, and took the time to do so. Then, he spanked me. After, I had slid off his lap, down to the floor. My arms wrapped tightly around his legs, and I rested my head down into his lap for awhile. He played with my hair, as he spoke softly to me. He did understand what he had said to upset me, and apologized, but reminded me I didn’t need to have been disrespectful. I looked up at him and told him I felt HE had been disrespectful to ME! In his calm and gentle voice, he insisted he hadn’t cussed me. He was right. He has never once said “fuck you” to me, or yelled at me. I was left with no further arguments to make regarding that morning’s ridiculous incident. Just a couple weeks ago, there was one other instance that typically would’ve earned me a sore behind. I had forgotten to do something important, and it cost us. However, Adam recognized I’d been having an even harder time than has become normal. As Summer turns into Fall, it can be a very difficult time for me. Sights and smells throw me back to other buried memories that will suddenly resurface, unexpectedly. Even the most basic, simple daily tasks had become huge obstacles for me. I’d been having a rough time, and he knew it. As we stood together in the shower, I opened up to him. I put words to the hurt and the heaviness I was carrying. I also told on myself, about this thing I’d neglected to get done. Adam held me in his arms, as I fought the tears that streamed down my face. It feels GOOD, letting things out. Sharing myself with my husband. I hesitate, though, because I just don’t want to add any more weight to what he is carrying. I desperately want to find my way back to me. He didn’t punish me, that night. I understood that pass wasn’t because he was afraid or because he didn’t mind my mistake. It was because he loves me, and it hurts him that I hurt. It wasn’t a time to be harsh. I needed him to hold me, to hear me, even if I wasn’t able to clearly communicate what was behind the tears and frustration and upset I had been experiencing. He knew I was sincere, and he knew what was truly needed that night. Adam is a good man. He’s amazing, and I love him so much. It kills me to hear anybody say different.

Still, I’m lonely as hell. I’m trying my best to be okay, without. Without so much of what mattered to me. Without Jackie. I can’t rebuild or replace what we had. Or, what I believed to be true, anyway. Every piece of me aches over what I’ve had to say goodbye to. I’m not sure how to be okay. I just keep faking it, hoping and praying that one day I won’t have to. Someday, I can be okay again. Life is moving on, but I feel like I’m stuck. Hours turned to days. Days became weeks. Weeks have become months. Yet, I’m still trapped somewhere in between then and now. I watch as the seasons change, as my children have grown, as time marches on. Part of me wishes I could rewind, while another wishes to fast forward. I just want out of this grief, loss, and intense pain. My God I want to find my way back to the me I was so content with. Some days, it’s like being forced to stand in the rain, and then put inside a cold room, unable to remove the soaked clothes I’m wearing. I literally feel as if I’m crawling out of my skin. I do have some okay days. I think I do. It’s never going to be the same, and I recognize that. I can’t simply be okay about it, though.

I haven’t sat down in front of my laptop, and written my thoughts in a long while, because it hurts to have to acknowledge them. I want to fake it for the sake of this blog that I’ve built here, but I can’t do that. It hurts to be authentic, but it’s killing me doing all this pretending. If I’m not already dead? I don’t know anymore. Whoever I am, this is “me” tonight.

I’ll keep the pictures saved in a safe place
Wow, I look so weird here
My face has changed now
It’s a big shame

So many feelings, struggling to leave my mouth
And it’s not that rare for me to let myself down
In a big way
But I had enough time and I found enough reason to accept that

It’s not the same anymore
I lost the joy in my face
My life was simple before
I should be happy, of course

But things just got much harder
Now it’s just hard to ignore
It’s not the same anymore
It’s not the same anymore
It’s not the same, but, it’s not a shame ’cause

I spend a long time putting up with people
Putting on my best face
It’s only normal when you stop things in the wrong way
It’s only four o’clock and still, it’s been a long day
I just wanna hit the hay
People knocking on me like every day
I’m tired of taking stress

If only there could be another way
I’m tired of feeling suppressed
And when they want me the most
I’m tired of acting like I care, but I do
And I can’t wait to hit the bed
But tomorrow makes me scared

‘Cause it’s not the same anymore
I lost the joy in my face
My life was simple before
I should be happy, of course

But things just got much harder
Now it’s just hard to ignore
It’s not the same anymore
It’s not the same anymore
It’s not the same
It’s not the same

I kept the feelings inside
I open up when shit gets built up this high
[They] make it easy to cry
The words fall out of me and there’s no more disguise

I miss the days when I was someone else
I used to be so hungry
Right now, my stomach’s full of air
And I’ve spent many months just hating on myself

I can’t keep wishing things will be different
Or leaving problems on the shelf
I wish I didn’t need to get help
But I do
But I do

I’ve been so hard on myself
Even my family can tell
And they barely saw what I felt
I wouldn’t wish this on my enemy or anyone else

It’s not the same
It’s not the same as before
It’s not the same anymore
And it’s fine because

I’ve learned so much from before
Now I’m not sure on advice
There’s no excuses at all
No point in feeling upset

Won’t take my place on the floor
I’ll stand up straight like I’m tall
It’s up to me, no one else
I’m doing this for myself

It’s not the same anymore
It’s better
It got better

~Rex Orange County

I’ve thought often, over the last few weeks, about writing here in my blog. I’ve wanted to. My days have been incredibly FULL, though. I start my day when my alarm wakes me, at 5:01am. 5:01, because I refuse to set alarms for times in increments of fives. Not 5:00, and not 5:05 or 4:55. All of my alarms are set for random times, like my 5:01 wake up alarm.

EXIBIT A (see above photo)

My 5:01 alarm snatches me from my sleep, and I drag myself into our bathroom, where I throw on a hoodie and some shorts. I know it’s the middle of summer and hot as hell, but I’m literally always cold first thing in the morning. Once I’m dressed, I make my way into the kitchen. I pour some coffee into my travel mug, and then I drive Adam to his work. His pickup truck has been at the dealership being worked on for OVER A MONTH! He’s pretty frustrated about it, and I’m sick of it too. I get home a little before 6am, and go back inside to change into my work clothes.

I do my hair and make-up, while I finish my coffee. I almost always put some music on while I’m getting ready for work. The kids are still sleeping, at least for one more week. School starts soon. My work schedule is very flexible. We have meetings every Monday and Friday, so I need to be in the office a little earlier on those days. I typically leave the house between 8:15-9:15am, depending on what’s on my calendar for that day.

I’m really enjoying my job, and I get along great with everyone. Our branch manager has been training me, and we’ve already become friends. She’s my age, and a single mom to a little girl the same age as my Mj. My training was supposed to take 8 weeks. There was to be 5 weeks of learning through a BUNCH of reading and testing, followed by 3 weeks of actually using these learned skills and practicing them. I finished all of the computer learning and tests in the first four days I was there. Last week, I was already handling loan applications from start to finish. I pre-qualified customers who requested it, and then discuss our lending options with them. I run our credit inquiry once they decide to proceed. Then, it’s time to go over everything again, and have them sign and initial about a zillion forms. Once they’ve got their money and I’m finished with the customer, it’s time to print, scan, fax, e-mail, share, send, and file everything. I’ve got all the passwords and codes memorized now. I’ve assigned and de-assigned our cash drawers, balanced them, and open/closed and balanced our safe. I take care of deposits, withdrawls, and take incoming and make outgoing calls. No part of my job is particularly difficult. I love working both with customers and my co-workers. I love having my own desk and workspace. I also kinda love that I’m doing something that gets me out and takes me from the worries, stress, and sadness I felt at home. Don’t get me wrong, I love my home and family! It’s just too easy to trap myself inside and dwell on so many things I can’t control. My body and brain are forced to focus on something else, somewhere else, when I go to work.

I come home sometime between 12:30-1:30 for my lunch break. I hang out with my kids for awhile, before it’s time to get back to work.

The girls baked some brownies the other day, right before I got home for my lunch break 🙂

Finally, I get home from work. I usually get home anywhere from as early as 5:30, to as late as 7pm. Most evenings I have to pick up Adam from his work, too. I remove my heels and blazer jacket, untuck my shirt, and get started making supper.

Once everyone has eaten supper, and the kitchen is cleaned up, I usually get about an hour to talk and text with my friends and family. Then, Adam and I take our shower and get ready for bed, so we can do it all over again the next day. This weekend, I’m working on our laundry and cleaning all the bathrooms. Basically, catching up on all the household chores that used to get done during weekdays.

We will be moving Mikayla into her dorm in just a little over a week! I don’t think I’ve accepted the fact that my girl won’t be home everyday anymore. There’s still a whole lot of shit happening in my life, but I do have to be grateful for my ability to take it in strides recently. The fears and the stress and the sadness exist, but they don’t consume me these days. Between the daily antidepressant I’ve been on since June, and my new job, I’m definitely doing better. I’m feeling better. Not ALL better. Not necessarily “good”. Better, though. I’m better than I was, and that’s enough for me to celebrate. Adam and I have even been silly and playful, lately. He snags any opportunity to give my butt a slap or a squeeze. I’m enjoying sex again. I even catch myself smiling sometimes. Am I happy? Not exactly. I do get moments of what feels very much like happiness. There are these times where I almost forget why I’m not supposed to be ok. Why things aren’t ok. It’s not as if things are terrible. There are deep concerns troubling us and yet, we do manage to steal little pieces and parts of all that’s good around us, and they almost override the negative thoughts of our tomorrows and what they could bring. I have to remember to look for the joy that surrounds me. Remind myself that neither tears nor laughter will have any effect on the things I have no control over. It’s okay to put away my worries for awhile. Joy is permissible. It doesn’t mean I don’t care, or that I don’t remember where we are and what weighs on all of our minds so heavy. I’ve found myself planted inside a very different garden, but it’s okay to grow here too. I loved the garden I had. I invested so much into it. Wilting away where I’m at won’t change what’s been done. I can’t have some of the flowers that once grew inside my old garden with me, but I can choose to make this new garden beautiful, too. So, that’s what I’m hoping for these days. I just have to believe that God has got this. God is my gardener. He’s working to pull the weeds, water, and provide sunlight for this garden. It’s only right that I should recognize and readily accept these gifts that can help me to grow strong and healthy again. After all, He never promised anybody tomorrow. Each and every day that I get to wake up is an opportunity to show gratitude for what I’ve been given today. Crying over yesterday, or tomorrow, only hurts my today. Nothing I do can change yesterday or tomorrow. I only have today, and today wasn’t so bad.

If I could find assurance
To leave you behind
I know my better half would fade
And all my doubts
Is a staircase for you
Opened out of this maze

The first step is the one you believe in
The second one might be profound

I’ll follow you down through the eye of the storm
Don’t worry I’ll keep you warm
I’ll follow you down
While we’re passing through space
I don’t care if we fall from grace
I’ll follow you down

I’ll follow you down to where forever lies
Without a doubt, I’m on your side
There’s nowhere else that I would rather be
I’m not about to compromise
Give you up to say goodbye
I’ll guide you through the deep
I’ll keep you close to me

~SHINEDOWN

I’ve always heard that anger is a secondary emotion. That anger comes from hurt, fear, guilt, sadness. It’s not something you feel on its own. While I do believe that to be accurate, anger seems to be the prevailing emotion taking over all others, right now. At least for me it is. Adam hasn’t expressed any anger around me. I wonder if he allows that to come out when he’s alone? Does he hide it from me? Or is it possible he just isn’t pissed off, like I am? I don’t want “vengeance”. All I really hope for, is to be done. Done with the people who don’t provide any more positive value to me or to my family. Done worrying about what’s going to happen today, tomorrow, and in the months to come. Done lying awake at night, running over and over in mind all of the possible “what ifs” that haunt my thoughts. Done answering questions and giving explanations to everyone texting and calling me to tell me whatever twisted version of this shit they’ve heard, either from Jackie herself, or passed down in this fucked up game of “telephone”. Every time it’s retold, new outrageous embellishments are added. I just want to be left alone. Is that so much to ask?

I barely have it in me to discuss anything other than the superficial with Adam. I so want to be able to put my upset into a “box”, so that I can keep it tucked away and find a little bit of normalcy again. But, it’s like trying to cram a gallon of water into a container that only holds an ounce. It spills out and pours into every other part of my days and nights. There’s nowhere to hide. It’s truly exhausting.

All I know for sure, is that I’ve got my husband’s back. Anybody who doesn’t like it can fuck right off. I will dissolve relationships with anyone who threatens my family. I don’t care how long I’ve known you, or how much I’ve invested in a relationship with you. I can absolutely manage without you. I’m ashamed that I’ve allowed people who’ve already shown me how willing and able they are to hurt me, to be part of my own happiness. I’m choosing to focus on who I have around me right now. The ones who actually love me like I’ve loved them. The ones who smile when I do, and cry when I do. I’ve learned that just because someone matters to me, doesn’t mean it’s reciprocated. I can’t fix anyone else. It isn’t enough to love someone. I have to take my peace back. My joy. My life. It won’t all be solved today, tomorrow, or the next day. It won’t take forever, though. I might not be able to see it yet, but there has to be a time coming when I can stop holding my breath. When I can put my pieces back together. Every time I’ve felt shattered like this, it’s the process of making myself whole again that reminds me of just how capable I am. I figure out again what and who I really want around me. I’m much more careful about who I share myself and my family with. Somehow, this anger is giving me strength. I’m determined to make it to the other side, because I’ll be damned if anyone is going to steal what I’ve spent my life working for. I’m taking back my power.