So much has changed.

I haven’t written in so long.  I’ve been working on me, but honestly just 3 weeks after intensive therapy, I’m back where I was or maybe worse.

How is this possible?  I have no idea.  How quickly we forget the things I was being told and learning just weeks ago.  On top of this there’s PTSD therapy for 12 weeks.  I’m 8 weeks in and am slowly moving forward with the idea that I didn’t cause Dallas’ drug issues or ultimate death. I don’t think I’ll ever really believe it, but I know what to say to appear to be getting better.  Just like knowing what to say to get released from partial hospitalization therapy.

Now, I sit alone each night as the girls and I have stopped most activities and think.  Think about the good times, the bad times, the happy ones, and sad ones.  I no longer wear a mask at home and cry almost nightly for my baby girl.  Everyone that said the 2nd year was hard was so right.  Now our second year of holidays without her.  Second year of Madelyn’s birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Day.  Missing so many things her little girl is doing.

Now I sit alone still, I’ve been praying for a good man to come and be my partner and best friend.  Everyone says to wait on it’ll be on God’s timing.  I always laugh at this, because the people telling me this aren’t alone.  They have someone to hold them when they’re sad or scared, to laugh with when things are going well, to kiss goodnight.  Someone that would miss them when they’re gone.

So this is where I’ve been.  Almost back to ground zero and some days below that.




Sometimes I think the “good” ones get a bad rap for those who make wrong decisions.  The others aren’t “bad”, they make poor decisions.  I’ve heard people say, ” Well, the good kid in the family went to college, while the bad one went to drugs.”

I’ve had quite a few of my former students ask if I’m okay this morning.  They care and they are some of those that have been labeled “bad”.  They care about who cares about them and some or most of them have no one at home to care about them.  I’ve always been drawn to the kids that are considered the unlovable ones.

These kids come to school after being up all night listening to parents fight or maybe party.  They got up 2 hours early to get little brothers and sisters ready.  They have one meal a day and it’s lunch at school.  We expect them to have supplies for school and they don’t have electricity at home.  I did a homebound assignment once where they had no heat.  We sat with coats and gloves on working on math.  Neither of us cared anything about math right then.

Some of these will drop out, some get their GED, and some will persevere and graduate.

Pray for the teenagers that are the “bad” ones.  They need prayers the most.  These are the ones Jesus would sit with and talk to.

❤ y’all.

427 days…

I don’t want to be here anymore.  Every day is a struggle.  I did so much better last year when I was on autopilot.  Reality is sinking in that I will never see her again.  No hugs, kisses, holding her hand in the hospital.  Telling her I wouldn’t let her die when the dr said she would.

I feel like I’m being punished for something.  I don’t know what, because of course there are many things I’ve done wrong.  I get tired of being told I’m strong, I get tired of doing this life alone, I get tired of being reminded I have 2 kids that rely on me for everything.  Like I don’t wake up to that stress and realization every day.  One foot in front of the other through quicksand.

My friend’s son passed away by taking his life.  His mom and sister had passed away in 6 months time and he felt his life was unbearable.  It has hit me harder than anything else besides Dallas’s passing.  I barely knew him.  so why so difficult and why has it thrown me into this spiral I can’t get out of this time?  Because I’ve been there.  I’ve stood at the kitchen counter and looked at those prescription bottles counting out the pills and different kinds.  What was the best combination to make it work this time?  He sat in his car wavering on his decision, I’m sure he cried for his mom and family, just like my baby did in her final moments.

I’ve said for years if I ever started grieving my daddy, Tim, and Dallas I wouldn’t be able to stop.  Guess what?  I was right.  I cry constantly.  At work, in the car, in the store, watching tv, going to to bed, getting up…it’s constant.  I am going crazy and I have no idea what to do.  Going back to a place like I’ve been in before is such a joke.  5 days and change your meds and you’re cured.  I feel deep down that the day is coming when I won’t be able to get out of bed, then what?  Who dresses the girls and gets them to school?  Who packs the lunches and picks them up?  Why have I been left here with the responsibility all on my own?

You’re here until God’s plan for you is done.  Really, because what kind of plan ends at just 20? 23? 38? 41?  What could possibly be His plan for my miserable life?  Yeah, I’ve been a teacher and don’t even enjoy that anymore.

My life sucks, no joy at all.  I miss her so much it’s a physical pain that no medicine can help.  I gave her life and couldn’t save it.  I don’t deserve to be here and want to be with her so badly.  Can’t leave the girls, so unfair to make me stay here when I love them just as much, but need Dallas more than I can explain.


is a feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else’s possessions, qualities, or luck.  Years ago it would have been all about me having someone else’s possessions.  I’ve had the bigger house, more land, more “things”, maybe.  None of that has eased my life, lifted my depression, or made things really any better.

Envious of other’s qualities, definitely.  I wish I could be more of a type B laid back person.  Never stressing about things that don’t matter or what will even be a concern in 5 weeks, months or years.  I wish I would be more empathetic.  I wish I didn’t anger easily.  I envy people that can eat whatever or actually enjoy exercise.

Now luck…is there such a thing as luck?  Is it coincidence, God’s will, our free will decisions?  Life isn’t fair.  Why is there so much death in some people’s lives while others don’t experience death until well into their adulthood?  Why do bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people?  Envious of those that have had someone pass away yet have a partner to help shoulder the pain and hurt.  Just a hug, being held while you cry, or doing things as a family with my girls.  I have dealt with the last years of Dallas’s life alone.  Getting up each day and going to bed each night alone.  Wondering what the next day will bring.  Envious of those who have someone and are so in love there’s never a question of them being apart.  Envious of those that didn’t have to go back to work the next week after burying their child.  They can take a break and some how begin to absorb the shock and begin the true grief process.  Envious of those that don’t have to take meds just to function daily.  No depression, anxiety, grief, alone.

Free will makes me envious.  Envy is considered one of the 7 deadly sins.  I pray each night to help me with this feeling of envy.  Wanting what others have, not in possessions, but in their life.  I don’t think I’ve been a bad person, maybe made very bad decisions, but just as my child paid the price, I shouldn’t have to pay the price of this forever.


The year

20046363_10212839302404930_6975913862859050101_nA year has now come and gone since my first baby girl went to Heaven.  How do I feel?  Hurt, angry, sad…all of the same emotions I felt from the beginning.  Grief isn’t in some linear pattern, but a roller coaster of up and down days.  You can measure if you are doing better by how many more up days there are in between down days.

Grief is described as waves in the ocean, roller coaster rides, or even aftershocks after a huge earthquake.

I spent the day with friends and family.  Only about an hour alone at the cemetery.  I know most people that know me think this was the best plan, because I scare them when I spend too much time alone.

Now, I understand why other grieving mothers have told me the second year is the worst.  You’ve survived all the firsts.  Now what? It’s like there’s nothing left to do, but be alone in our grief.

I haven’t entered her room or watched home movies.  Two things I desperately want to do, but can’t seem to get there.  I’d love to just curl up in her bed with her blanket she carried everywhere with her (I put a piece of it in her hand).  I want to lie in her bed and smell her blanket and cry and scream.  But, I don’t.  I want to see and hear her from when she was a baby.  Her laugh and beautiful smile.  All of the Christmas’ and birthdays captured in color.

Tomorrow will be the anniversary of the visitation.  The last day I had her truly to myself while hugging her and doing her hair, make-up, and nails.  She would be so proud, because she laughed when I promised to do it.  I was brave.

One year.

❤ y’all



It’s brought up up recently if I’m truly ready to give or share my testimony. My relationship with Jesus, my life’s events, and how I got to the place I am today. 

There’s a lot to try and sum up in just 20 to 30 minutes. My testimony is really mine and Dallas’s story. I wouldn’t be where I am today had it not been for my beautiful baby girl. 

Typical childhood for the 70’s, typical high school days in the 80’s, a failed 2x marriage with 2 children, a 10 year relationship and short lived marriage with 1 child, and then it really began to fall apart. 

That’s about all I can get through this afternoon as once again my heart has been broken. Broken because I need to feel loved so badly, I let the emotions get way too involved. I feel strongly about them, but I’m just a fun time. 


It started out a little rough.  I never even knew the Sunday before Mother’s Day was designated for moms who had lost a child.  I mean why would anyone know about this day until sadly, they were in this situation.  I knew I would be dreading this Sunday.  How do you really celebrate Mother’s Day when one of your children is gone?  I will do my best, because my mom is still here and so are my other 3 children.

After lunch, I was able to go hand out the bags my friends and I made for the homeless.  a little late for her birthday, but the weather kept us from doing it until now.  My new friend, Amanda, went with me.  She is a recovering addict and at one time was homeless herself.  I would’ve never been able to do this on my own.  It was very rewarding.  Some people were so grateful and continued to thank and bless us as we walked away.  Others were kind of standoffish and I understand it’s hard to trust anyone on the streets.  Only about 2 men were kind of ungrateful and wanted more from us.  This will definitely be an annual or more event for me.  Dallas would be proud.

After getting home, the girls swam in our new pool and just enjoyed themselves.  I watched them laugh and thought how blessed (spoiled) we really are.  Those men don’t know where their next meal is coming from and yet here we are enjoying more than we really ever need.  Serving others and giving back is a new way of life for me.

As the night came to a close, my son (he just graduated with a bachelor’s in psychology) came out to enjoy some family time.  He makes me so proud and I can’t wait for what is in store for him in the future.  He will be returning to school to pursue his Ph.D in the fall.

I am truly blessed and vow to never take anything for granted again.  God is good all the time, and all the time….

❤ y’all


Blessing Bags

I thought of many things I’d love to do to honor Dallas on her birthday.  I decided to make blessing bags for the homeless.  I posted online hoping for donations and the outpouring of love was tremendous.

I had a friend who worked for a hotel bring me boxes and boxes of supplies.  I had a good friend at my Celebrate Recovery make up her own bags to go with mine with snacks.  The National Honor Society at the high school where I teach brought in items, too.  Just so much love for the homeless and for Dallas’s memory.

The bags were put together on a Friday night with some of my wonderful friends at Celebrate Recovery.  Some of them had never even met me, but was more than happy to help.

I have more than 100 bags put together waiting to be handed out.  It’s rained the last 2 weekends, so I’m waiting for a nicer day to hand them out.  I will more than likely have the girls with me, so I may end up taking them all to the Union Mission in downtown.  I’d love to meet some of the people who will benefit from other’s generosity, but if I don’t that’s totally okay, too.

❤ y’all


Dallas’s birthday

You know how when you have a baby, you imagine all the milestones in their life.  Walking, school, driving, sweet 16, turning 21, etc…Now the milestones past sweet 16 are gone for Dallas.  She will forever be frozen in time at 20.  No more pictures of her as a 30 year old with children, in mid-life with her own grandchildren, or growing old with the love of her life.  Those were stolen from her by addiction.

I debated on what I would do for her birthday.  Do you try to suck it up and celebrate their life and the good times?  Do you cry all day in a ball in the bed?  Do you sit at the cemetery and stare at the headstone?  So many choices, and a milestone birthday.

In the end, I took the advice of another grieving mom and decided to celebrate.  The date of her passing will never be a celebration, but her birth and coming into the world forever changing mine would be as happy as I could muster.  I think as years pass this may become easier.

I took the day off work and began with breakfast at Chick-Fil-A, one of her favorite fast food places.  I then went to a party store for balloons and decorations for the cemetery.  This is where I finally let the tears of months flow.  Later, I felt so sorry for the workers.  What must they have thought about a mom sobbing on the happy 21st birthday aisle.  I couldn’t even gather myself to explain why.  This should of been a happy celebration.

I carried yellow (her favorite color) balloons, a big Happy 21st Birthday balloon, and a colorful centerpiece that was weighted down.  I decorated with the tears finally drying up.  I sat on her bench in the shade of the big trees and talked to her for a while.  Letting her know how proud I was for all the struggles she put up against this evil drug.  I thought about all of the pain she endured through 3 surgeries, two of them being major open heart surgeries.  I played my new favorite contemporary Christian songs and read a book I had brought along.  I ended up there for almost 3 hours.  It was so quiet and peaceful.  I then went and ate at Arby’s.  The place I ate at so many times in CA while pregnant with her. (She hated Arby’s by the way) Yes, my memories revolve around eating a lot of times.

That night I had invited several of my “new” friends that are a huge support to me.  We met at her favorite restaurant, Texas Roadhouse.  I had let Madelyn pick out a birthday cake for her Mommy in the sky.  We all ate and visited and then it was time to sing.  Her baby girl did a great job singing to Mommy.  We ate cake and laughed.

I hope Dallas enjoyed her birthday in Heaven and I’m sure it was so much better than here on this cruel Earth.  I know she would be proud of how we celebrated her life here with us, too.

❤ y’all


No one understands 

I try sharing things on FB hoping to educate people on addiction and mental illness. It just doesn’t seem to be helping anyone. 

I posted the video of the men running for mayor of various cities in our county. Their answers concerning addiction shocked, saddened, and infuriated me. 

Many believe that they can’t be held responsible for their words when they are obviously uneducated on the subject. I’m sorry, but that’s a copout. Our county has the highest overdose are in the state. They should take it upon themselves to educate and fins out more about such an important issue. Government isn’t just about out roads, taxes, and parks. 

One went as far as to say it’s all on the parents. I felt taken aback to the shame about bound guilt of having an addicted daughter. How dare he even infer such a thing? It’s like a punch in the gut and slap to the face of parents everywhere struggling with trying to help, but not enable their addicted children. 

I was hoping to let others know how still uneducated and bias the public is on this subject. It went unnoticed. 

What can anyone do when no listens or cares or without the backing of others?

❤ y’all