Chasing disappointments that have plagued me for years now, I am somber. There is a sense of grief for a person I desired to be. My sheltered dreams seem unattainable. Life is more about everyone else than me.
You're not a failure. Never forget that.
As my son made his way to 18, I thought it was all coming to an end. As though my status as mom would be revoked and I had to apply for a new one.
If I could meet up with my 20 something self, I would probably bring a bottle of wine. I don’t even drink wine, but this occasion may be the perfect time to start. Before I can come up with the words for that chat, I have to remember who I was back then. I was a lost girl, broken and beaten to the edge.
I am the wife that has gotten on his last nerve, the mother who asks to many questions, the distant sister, the isolated churchgoer, and the quirky employee who hides behind a forced smile and genuine respect for all around her. I am lost in every way this world requires us to be sure.
It is difficult to celebrate on Mother's Day when you live with the guilt of being a Bipolar mother.
For those feeling the smack of the paddle, throw yourself off the table and keep rolling!
A mother's journey through a child's addiction.
I am a strong woman, I was stronger than ever in a trance like state, but I couldn't bare the weakness and fear any longer.
We just tore down the church Christmas decorations. My lobby is back to its nice, tidy simplified self, and I am a happy camper. I love to see the beautiful décor during the season, but I begin to feel cluttered and claustrophobic before it all comes down. I guess I will have to admit life …