To all the MOMS on World Mental Health Day 🌱

Since the birth of our children, nearly every decision we make will bring us a sense of guilt. Put your baby to bed too early and you feel guilty for not enjoying your time with your baby while they are little. Keep your baby up too late, and you feel guilty that they aren’t getting enough rest. I have struggled with this immensely in the short stint of my experience with motherhood, and I know from many conversations I’ve had with other mothers of children of all ages, it is something that is never going to go away – as much as we wish it would. As mothers, we are under constant scrutiny and watchful eyes from everyone around us. We are criticized on how we feed our child, rather than the fact that the child is being fed at all. We feel the heat of dirty looks in the supermarket when we have a wailing child that we can’t quiet.  We take showers and look down at a body that looked very different just a few short months ago. We smile when you happily say hello to our children, but still feel the pain when you don’t acknowledge our presence with an equal amount of excitement. Do you care about me? Or do you only care about me enough to scrutinize who you think I am as a mother?

Well I will tell you who I am as a mother.

I am now devoted to life of selflessness. I have ran to the bathroom, cried out in overwhelming frustration, wiped my eyes, and returned back to my family with no one even noticing the crack of defeat I have hidden from my face. I have spent late nights worrying, planning, anticipating, and preparing. I love selflessly and whole-heartedly.

On my toughest days, I close my eyes and face the sky waiting for nature to give me strength… She always does.

I am persistent and I am determined. Even though there are times I feel like I might break under all of the pressure, the sun falls and rises, and so do I.

I am passionate. Passionate about my child. Passionate to build up the family that I have created. Passionate about the joys life has so graciously given me.

I am forgiving. I am consistent. I am fierce. I am patient.

Through the guilt that I so often face, I have come to understand that there are so many things that make me the best mother in my child’s world. Forget the pain you feel when you choose to do something that is in the best interest of you. We deserve some of our free will to be made solely in regards to our own wellness.

Because it’s hard being a selfless, persistent, determined, passionate, forgiving, consistent, and fierce MOM.

In the Morning

I wake up in the morning

Feeling like an absolute star

I’m motivated to start the day

And conquer all that lies before me

But then I get out of bed

And start thinking about

All the ways I’ve let myself down

Too clingy

Too chubby

Too shy

Too busy

Too self-conscious

I look in the mirror and 

Run my fingers through my

Wavy long hair

I like the way it falls against my back

And frames my face

I layer on mascara and

Study the freckles

That cover my nose and cheeks

Maybe I am beautiful

Then I begin to realize 

I’m not as bad as I think I am

I don’t give myself enough credit

For I have strength in so many ways

I am fierce

I am determined

I am smart

I am reliable

And I am out of bed today

And that is a feat

That not all can achieve


Sharing My Story & Creating a Following Along the Way

I woke up to a very cool WordPress notification on my phone!


I have always loved writing. English classes were my favorite, I loved writing essays and doing research. I took Journalism classes in college. Even though I love writing so much, making it a career seems unfeasible due to the fact that I live in a rural area where making good money from writing would be next to impossible. So I decided to start this blog. I did not know anyone who blogged personally and I definitely didn’t know any popular bloggers… so trying this out was something I started with no idea how it worked or where it would lead. I just knew I wanted to share my story with others in hopes that my words would help someone else with similar experiences. Growing up with a drug-addicted mother and a father I didn’t even know the name of, I felt so alone. As I started talking more about what I experienced as a kid, I realized I had a unique talent of offering advice and sharing my perspective to those that were like me. I realized that I wasn’t alone. I realized that maybe I was the light of hope and understanding for someone else, like I had always wanted someone to be for me.

I am thankful that this site has allowed me to share my story with both friends and strangers. I have received so much encouragement and love from my readers, and that makes it all so meaningful. I knew from the moment that I could gather my own opinions on my situation that I wanted to share it with anyone and everyone, so that someone like me wouldn’t feel the loneliness and desperation that I felt on my very worst days. I hope this blog has brought hope and comfort to those that have struggled with similar circumstances. I hope this blog has shed light on the problem with drug addiction we face within our families, communities, and world.

Thank you for reading and thank you for your support. It means more to me than I could ever express in writing. 🖤

I’m Angry

I’m angry.

I’m not sure a part of me will ever be un-angry.

I think about how many years I have missed out with my mom and it makes me angry.

I think about how many times she has blamed me for her drug use, addiction, and relapse and it makes me angry. There are no words to give a heartbroken daughter that will provide her with comfort or normalcy. I will always be the girl that carries the baggage and burden of my mother on my shoulders. I will never escape this pain. It will not go away.

And that makes me angry.

I’m angry that I’ve always been expected to just accept things the way that they are. I’ve gone out of my way to keep the hope that one day she will take responsibility for the wreckage she has caused. But she never will, and that makes me angry.

Someday I will have to explain all of this to my daughter in a way that doesn’t make her hate my mom as much as I do. It has never been my goal to influence hate from others. I’m only telling my truth the way I have perceived it. Perhaps the way I see it is harsh, but that’s what anger will do to you.

I make no apology for trying to repair what she broke.

I make no apology for being blunt about how I feel.

I make no apology for finding an outlet for all of these feelings. Putting this pain into my writing is what helps me heal. It helps me make sense of my story. It helps me comfort others that feel the same way. And let me tell you, I am far from alone.

And the fact that my situation is far from rare makes me angry.

So today and tomorrow and the day after that, I will be angry.

Relapse: An Example of How Your Choices Affect Others

Verb /rəˈlaps/

1. (of someone suffering from a disease) suffer deterioration after a period of improvement

My mom and I on Thanksgiving a few years ago

Relapse. The dirty word. I have to admit, I don’t have much personal experience on this because I’ve never been addicted to anything, but I did want to give my two cents on it since it is something that I have had to feel the consequences of.

I want to start off saying that I do believe that addiction is a disease. I think in many cases, the only way to get over addiction is through counseling, medication, rehabilitation, and/or intervention. Most disputes against addiction being a disease is the argument that addictschoose to start using drugs. That may be true in some circumstances, but it does not mean that it is true in all. Some drug users start before they are even old enough to understand what they are doing. Some are raised in households where drug use is normal and not expressed as a negative thing, let alone something that can be addictive and dangerous. I think this is how my mother started her relationship with drugs. As much as I am hurt by her drug use and the consequences of it, I don’t believe she started using with the intention of always using. If your mom told you something was okay, wouldn’t you believe her? There are too many details on this that I’d rather not share, and the purpose of this blog isn’t about how drug use starts, but how the cycle doesn’t end.

I can remember the day we were taken from our mom by DCFS, and I can remember a few short visits with my mom throughout my childhood, but for the most part, she was absent. Most times I wouldn’t know where she was, and a lot of the time the only reason I knew she was locked up was because of the internet. You can search anything and everything online, and most of the time I found out way more than I ever wanted to. I would break my own heart over and over scrolling through old newspaper articles, public records, and mug shots. I pretty much just always assumed my mom was in the pen because I didn’t know what to anticipate about the relationship between drugs and their user. I still don’t know many facts about methamphetamine and how affects the mind, but I do know that I was absolutely terrified of it and hated it for consuming my mom.

I would find out my mom was out of prison mainly by my family members telling me stories about running into her at Walmart and things like that. I remember one time my own sister said she ran into her, said hi, but she was so out of it that she didn’t even recognize her own daughter.

Those are some of the consequences of relapse.

She goes to prison and gets away from the drugs, but then gets out and has access to everything that got her into trouble in the first place.

I’m not saying I don’t understand- I honestly, truly do. I understand how someone can lean on substance to escape from reality. I understand how life seems impossible to carry on sometimes, and the only way to feel okay is to get high. I understand how someone could fall back into that trap again, especially if they don’t have the help to overcome it.

But my issue is when it gets pinned on me.

My mom has said time and time again that she always turns back to drugs because she doesn’t have a relationship with her girls. She is still very angry and hurt that we were taken from her. That is understandable, no doubt. I can’t imagine having my daughter stripped away from me. That is a hole way bigger than I could ever possibly understand. But I think she needs help understanding that all of this happened because of her addiction and refusal to take responsibility of it. I’m sure that if she ever reads this, she will have something to say about that, but everyone has a right to their own opinion. The way I see it, if she wanted a relationship with her girls, she should be more motivated to getting help and staying sober rather than staying complacent and relapsing.

Her latest comment on one of my blogs said, “Your blame and rejection is debilitating to me and ends in me relapsing.” I can’t explain to you how incredibly furious that makes me. Imagine sitting backseat during a car crash and being blamed for the car when it gets totaled. Our relationship is, and always has been, at the mercy of her choices. And to be frank, most times she chooses wrong.

It seems as though it will be a never-ending cycle of relapse. And all I can do is shake my head in disappointment and hope that maybe one day it will change. After all, I will support my mom (and anyone else, for that matter) in her journey towards recovery, should she ever choose that path.

If you are scared of relapsing, visit for tips, resources, and an online community.

Drug Courts & A Failed F*cking System

I wrote a few weeks back that my mom was getting out of jail and going to rehab. I was excited, but I tried hiding it. Part of me knew something was going to fall out. The thing about hope is that even though you can prepare yourself to be let down, you can’t prepare yourself enough to not feel the hurt of failed expectations.

She went to rehab for five days.

Five days.



I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t heartbroken, but how I feel is much more than just a heartbreak.

I am furious.


I am furious at the system. I am furious at our courts. I am furious at the people that turn a blind eye when they know that someone needs their help.

SHE COULD BE A MOTHER. She could have been our mother for YEARS now if someone would have taken even a SECOND to pay attention to what the hell was going on in our situation.

It all started in the early 2000’s. The first time she was arrested for possession and fighting. I would have been around five years old. So you arrest a young mother for fighting on the streets while high on who-knows-what, and you’re not going to do anything to make sure it doesn’t happen again? What about the second time? Third time? Fourth time?

Oh, right. THAT’S when we finally take the kids.

But she should have been provided the rehabilitation and help she so desperately needed WAAAAYYYY before it ever got that bad. It has been eighteen years since this all started and nothing has been done to help her. I am furious because in this country drug addicts can relapse and relapse and relapse and get locked up several times without getting any help! By now, we should all be aware that it is cheaper to rehabilitate addicts so they don’t relapse than it is to lock them up over and over and over again…

When did we stop caring about people? Or rather, why don’t we care more about people? It is unfortunate that many addicts’ stories are just like my mother’s. An endless cycle of drug addiction, arrest, lengthy prison sentence, release, and then it starts all over again. And again. And again.

I lost my mother because our court system is designed to allow addicts to fail. 

She was arrested this last time for possession of meth. She was sent to a rehabilitation facility for FIVE DAYS after a twenty year-long span of drug addiction. Do you want to know why? Because they release those that aren’t seen as a risk of relapsing. 


She has been an addict for twenty f*cking years and you’re gonna tell me that after FIVE DAYS in your facility, you think she isn’t going to go right back to the drugs?! WHAT. A. JOKE.

This is what I mean when I say that the system is designed to let people like her fail.

I am heartbroken. Outraged. Furious. Disgusted. Appalled.

If she would have gotten help the first time she was seen as having a problem, I could have a mom in my life right now. But instead I’m sitting here pissed off, writing a blog about how the government helped in making my life a living hell.