Category Archives: Finalization Life

Ten Years

Yesterday, Hope and I observed the 10th anniversary of her moving in and me taking custody.

I knew the day was coming, but I wasn’t intentionally keeping up with it. And then, last night a fleeting thought crossed my mind…

“Wait, is today the day? We probably missed it.”

::Looks at calendar::

Oh damn, today is the day.

So, I sent Hope a text.

Our celebration.

It is pretty crazy. In many ways it flew by, I flipped thru her graduation pictures recently. And then there’s evidence of the struggles, each one feeling like it was its own eternal path.

I see the nearly totally gray head of hair. The few new moles on my cheeks. The meds and supplements I take now that I didn’t take then (I’m looking at you, raggedy arse Estrogen that I can’t seem to live without about 15 days or of month, but I digress).

Hope is a legal adult now. She’s so different than the little kid who sat on my cousin’s floor on Thanksgiving and looked the sole of her own foot for an hour desperately willing our attention. What I didn’t know then, but I know now is that When Hope didn’t get enough attention she will have us at the urgent care within 24-36 hours. After a couple of years of unnecessarily dramatic ER trips, I have to try really hard not to be skeptical when she says she’s not feeling well. I know my kid, I swear I’ve experienced so much that I struggle with empathy desensitization. Not proud of it.

Hope is a early twenty something with tats and a nose piercing, a huge head of natural hair, who loves her body, is trying to figure this next chapter out, wanting so much more freedom and never admitting that she knows she’s not ready for it but all her peers are doing all the things.

And our 9th year…

Our 9th year was as difficult as the first 2 years. Now that I think of it, they were mirrors. How the problems manifested differently, but the core issue? Trust and attachment? Yeah.

I’ve been meaning to create a new vision board for the year. The years that I have done them, consistently the things came to pass within 2.5 years. The last one I created was in 2020 before the pandemic. And despite the pandemic, much of it has come to fruition in its own way. But during these 3 years I’ve also experienced some dark emotional stuff that’s made me so different from the person I was 3 years ago. So it’s something I need to do to recapture my bearings. I’ve felt rudderless for some months now.

Some of that is because I’ve been really working hard to process these years. Some of my absolute worst fears came true, just one devastating trauma after another. Every damn year. I’d think, Aye, it’s been two months and we might have leveled out. But, no.

So I’m hitting it hard in therapy these days and wrestling with that stuff hasn’t gotten to the much better phase quite yet. It’s better, much ‘much’ is a stretch.

I’m also seriously considering what it would be like if I did the work I do with some other group or freelance. What would it be like to drive hard for 3-5 years and walk away. I legit feel a deficit in my lifespan after last year especially. I’m feeling like a stretched too far hair tie when the elastic is clearly broken but we just pretend that it still works perfectly.

Yeah, like that.

So I’m trying to figure out financially what’s possible and then after a year or so of nothingness but granting my within-budget heart’s desire, what then? What will make me happy and fulfilled. What level of financial freedom will I have? What’s next?

And how does Hope figure into the plan? Will she be able to create a fully independent life? What other things can I do now to help her scaffold and construct her adult life

So there’s quietly a lot going on over here. Hope is doing well, getting a job really helps emotionally. And I’m just figuring out just what I went thru last year and how do I recover and regain my confidence. It’s easy to say I wouldn’t do xx again when you couldn’t think of anything better so…?

So anyway, I’m ok. We’re ok. We survived together.

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Girl, What?

This parenting-a young-adult thing is so damn hard. I remember one time a former pastor of mine told me that God actually does give you more than you can handle in order to make you more faithful. It was powerful in the moment, but now I see that interpretation as manipulative, insinuating that everything I was already doing wasn’t sufficient… Give and do more.

Hope is evolving. Spreading her wings a bit. It’s awesome and terrifying. Her judgment is still shaky, and I kid you not, she’s into some new-ish nearly weekly.

Well in her most recent boondoggle, Hope asked me over text could she spend one night a week at her beau’s house. I replied a quick no, and braced for the firestorm.

I’m not even going to pretend to lie; my reasons for not agreeing to Hope staying out all night are complicated. I wish she was doing it from a dorm room, away at school, so I could pretend to not know anything about it, you know, the way God intended. But noooo! I have to take it on the chin and be gracious.

My reasons are a nasty mix of a conservative Baptist upbringing, fortified with a side of respectability politics and a little classism hiding up under my far left-leaning, sex-positive politics. I come from generations of clergy and this feels like the last shred of my own upbringing that I haven’t abandoned. No, bring yourself right home.

She both understands and doesn’t understand, and I totally get that. I’m considering letting her stay out on New Year… Which just sounds lame. Of course, she would stay out at New Years. Duh!

Anyway, we start talking about her adulting plans, and frankly, this is where my brain hurt.

Hope: I mean, I’m practically independent now. I pay my car note and my phone bill.

Me: *jaw drops* Um, the house costs money. I pay for your car insurance. Food?

Hope: Oh right, I need to figure out how to sign up for food stamps.

Wait, what?

This continued until I whispered, ‘Why do you want to be poor when you don’t have to be?’

Look I’ve already admitted to being bougie and sometimes classist… Back to my story…

Long story short, they’re so much she didn’t and doesn’t know that she was parroting things she heard around the way. Bless her heart, it doesn’t seem like she had so much as googled anything related to moving.

So we are starting an email thread where she can ask me questions about what it takes to move out. I suggested email because I don’t trust us not to follow communication rules in person. That said, our mutual self-control in this conversation was damn near Olympic-worthy.

So we are working towards independence in 2023. Ironically, this concept, this path, is literally what triggered our chaos seven months ago.

Yeah, really. Smh.


Things I Got So Wrong

Of course, I’ve worked hard to be a good parent, but like so many there are countless things I have done, still do, and probably forever will do wrong.

And by wrong, I mean, I effed up, and added more trauma and drama to the mix. I did my best with what I knew at the time, but like many things, more days of living leads to more knowledge–usually about the ways you effed up, but still more knowledge.

I came across this video on TikTok recently.

Whew, was I hit in the gut. Now, this wasn’t my consistent approach to parenting, but from the start, Hope leveraged illness as a way to get attention. We were regulars at the local hospital ER and at the urgent care when I could not continue to justify the $100 hospital co-pay and additional doctor bills.

It was almost always a stomach ache that triggered the visits. Consistently, the diagnosis was dehydration or no diagnosis at all. It was always an unfulfilling medical visit–for her, no diagnosis meant no sympathy attention and for me no diagnosis meant here we go again.

I’m a GenXer with numerous medical conditions that I just grin and bear it through. I admit, like the video–I have adapted to my limitations, accepted them, and found ways around them. I could never understand why Hope wouldn’t just push through.

Eventually, it became easier to dismiss the tummy ache or encourage her to shake it off. Then she actually had kidney stones, but she was unwilling to make a few modifications to prevent future attacks. It was frustrating–she was finally legitimately sick and wouldn’t do anything to help herself.

Then the pandemic hit and drove through the two of us like a buzzsaw. So many traumatic things have happened during these three years; ironically none of them were COVID-related. She got very sick a few times during this time and tests revealed some truly serious medical issues. I was always frustrated because Hope was unwilling to pursue treatments, and of course, I took that to mean maybe it wasn’t so bad.

But it was. All of it fed into our upheaval this year, and I bear the bulk of the guilt around why. Try as I might, I wasn’t able to consistently be the mom she needed. I was dismissive. I couldn’t understand why she couldn’t meet the challenges. I was angered by her refusal to see her part in her health improvement.

She made a few videos about me and my lack of empathy, which initially made me double down in my own foolishness. Now, many months later, I see my own role in our struggles so differently.

I thought I was meeting her where she was, but I wasn’t. The expectations were definitely not aligned with her capacity levels. Not at all. I kick myself often about how I stopped taking her complaints seriously and then wasn’t able to respond the way she needed. Sure, she was trying to get my attention with the medical shenanigans, but I was so wrong to expect her to behave completely rationally when she was really testing my ability and willingness to embrace her as she was and is. And, well, those tests were completely rational to her.

I’ve been working on my own alignments this last month in particular. It’s like I had some awakenings on things that just were not working in my parenting. It’s all resulted in a nice list of things to work on in therapy, like why does that attention-seeking behavior trigger me so? What daily things can I do to reduce her need for such behavior?

Even with Hope being a young adult; I’m still actively parenting. I’m realizing that there was a part of me that assumed the heavy lift would be over with Hope nicely ensconced in college somewhere. I did so much of my growing away from my parents’ watchful eyes while away at school. Hope is home; I’m seeing it all from the front row. It’s difficult to know when to intervene and when not to because the “adulting” line can be so murky at this age. It’s like jumping into a double dutch jumping session; and I have trouble jumping rope with one rope, much less two.

I’m continuing to work on being a better parent and I’m fortunate that Hope notes my efforts; even when I fail miserably, which is invariably often. All these years later, I’m still figuring this parenting thing out. I’m hopeful that I will continue to grow and break cycles of dysfunction for myself and my daughter. None of this is easy, but it is necessary.

Onward.


Better

I was a mess in my last post, but I was also honest. I hit a bottom; I’m not sure yet if it was the bottom. I was in trouble.

My primary care doc wrote me a new script and gave me good parenting advice, good medical advice regarding Hope and some great suggestions for getting through this period. He has been my PC for pretty much my whole adult life. He knows me and I trust him.

I bought tickets to go to a play. I invited a friend to go, but she got sick. I took a chance and invited Hope. She said yes and we had a great time. It was a vibe. You really don’t understand…I internally bought last minute tickets and invited a guest, all so I wouldn’t be alone with my thoughts. They’ve been dark. And I was afraid. So to end up going with my daughter and having an amazing night… It saved me.

It also gave me courage to send my Hope an email saying some things I really needed to say to her. I don’t trust us to attempt an in-person discussion. If we had another incident like the one we had this summer, I might need to check myself in somewhere for a short term stay. In any case, I was able to say things that I needed to say in a way that I thought she might understand.

She never acknowledged receiving it, but she’s been more engaging and reasonable since I sent it. I had work travel for the last 4 days, and while she had stopped saying she loves me, she’s back to calling me mom. I got in tonight, and I was treated to her just needing to vent about a problem. It was a treat indeed; when it ended in the sweetest hug and an apology for bending my ear. I legit would have stood there all night.

Things are better. I’m so gunshy; I don’t want to be too optimistic. I’ve racked up a lot off my own trauma this year especially parenting related trauma. But I’m hopeful we will forge a relationship with mutual respect and connectuon. I am hopeful we grow out of all of this


Ugh

Does everything feel hard to you?

Just me? Huh…

Everything is hard.

My respite in the Bahamas was short-lived. I was back in the office last week and feel like I’ve been on the usual rollercoaster ever since.

Hope basically kept the house and Yappy in order while I was away, but something just felt…off when I got home. The energy in the house hasn’t been good since the beginning of the pandemic, but there were all sorts of little things around the house that didn’t seem quite right when I returned. I just let it go and pressed forward because, really, what else am I going to do?

The moving-out deadline looms, and it’s freaking me out. Hope remains unemployed and unmotivated. We are currently in the very slow-moving car crash. Like, you can see it happening. This week the psychiatrist asked if I would be willing to put a pause on things. It was hard, but I said no, not without some kind of effort from Hope.

I take no pleasure in how all of this is shaking out. I’m miserable, totally and utterly miserable. And I’m realizing that everything is just feeling harder and harder to do every single day.

I’m scared that everything is going to fall apart, and that I don’t know how to stop it. I do not believe dropping the step-up or move-out requirement is going to change much at this point. I believe that we both need a lot of help and support, and we’re not getting those needs met. 1) They are hard needs to meet,2) getting the help and support we need is hard to access even with resources and 3) Hope is resistant to help. It’s all making me an increasingly nervous wreck.

I managed to make an appointment with a psychiatrist for me this week. It’s been a while in the making, and now I just have to wait two effing months before I can go. Fun times. I plan to call my own primary care doc by the end of this week to see if I can get another medication bump in the meantime. I am miserable.

Communication in the house is still tip-toe driven. And I’m constantly facing what feels like quiet resistance from Hope. It feels like we are utterly light years away from the close relationship we once had. Occasionally I’ll see glimmers of it, but it’s largely hidden.

I just want to see my daughter fully functional, able to better self-manage, emotionally regulate, and maybe, just maybe happy. I haven’t given up hope and I never will, but it just seems so impossible to achieve at this point. I know this moment will pass, but it would be really nice to know when.


Recovering


I’m currently in the Islands boozing with wild abandon…and then falling asleep on the beach.
I’m grateful to my mom friend who reminded me that I suggested we take a trip for some R&R about 2 months ago. I needed this. The pandemic has thrown off my vacation schedule, which has historically been March, July for family visits, and October.

For the past two years of pandemic travel, I’ve only ventured to Mexico and the Caribbean. I think I’m ready to resume wider travel in 2023.
But given the traumas of the summer I needed this reset.

Parenting has been a relative challenge. This chapter of ushering Hope into young adulthood has weathered me, and that’s saying something because the previous 2 years have also been doozies. I just want to get to some sense of normalcy again.

In good news, Hope has finally emotionally regulated a lot in the last month or so. She’s also coming to a place where she might be willing to seek counseling and meds—cross your fingers and say prayers folks. We *might* be on the verge of of a breakthru! She still hasn’t expressed any interest in renegotiating terms for moving out or staying at the end of the year. Pride cometh before the fall.

Yeah, yeah, I’ll be here to catch her.

I worry about her a lot. More than I thought was possible sometimes. I want so much for her, and I know she feels betrayed by my decision that she will need to move out. I’m realizing as we come closer to the deadline that not only is she not ready—she’s not even close. She got a job with Shipt some time ago, but never actually did any shopping or deliveries. When I asked her about it, she said she had so many questions about grocery shopping that she was just overwhelmed.

Yeah, it’s been rare that she’s joined me to do the household shopping. An occasional trip to Costco or Walmart does not give you the life skills to buy other people groceries—even with their list. She’s never made a delivery.


In any case, I know that the realization of adulting is starting to sink in, and it’s not pretty. Hell, I hate adulting myself. Bills, work, responsibilities! It’s a lot!


The last month also found me spiraling from a breakup I didn’t see coming at all. I’m devastated. I’m past the crying—which I didn’t do much of, but the questions, the rationale, the sadness…yeah, I’m still in the thick of it.


And then there’s work…whew. DEI work in the last, what 7ish years, has been brutal. Since that buffoon announced he was running for office, my work has required so much more of me. And bless your hearts White folks…seriously, if you ever considered yourself an ally to any marginalized groups, please go get your people together. I’ve got 10 more years of work before I can retire comfortably and deaing with White folk foolishness is just…whew…never-ending. I love my work, but real talk, I can honestly say I haven’t *liked* it in over 5 years. Working against oppression is effing exhausting.


So, beach time has been a nice balm to my latest emotional upheavals.


I head back to reality in a couple of days. Somehow, I’ve got a presentation due. Two dog sweaters (because somewhere along the way I had the brilliant idea to open an Etsy shop in honor of Yappy), a new order just came in and a zillion other projects that seemed like a good idea, but are now just feeling like time sucks.
I’ll also be calling the doc for a referral to a medication check in and also stepping up my exercise. The stress has done a number on my body and I need to get that under control as well. No joy in retiring early if I’m hobbling around.


I’m also going to start looking at dates to see if I can swing working remotely from the Caribbean for a month or two in 2023. I want to get a taste of my retirement fantasy and also explore some properties. I want to switch up my lifestyle a bit, and it just sounds like a radical thing to just pick up and move for a month and try it out. Just gotta figure out how to bring Yappy!


Anyway, back to the sunbathing.


Nothing New

Not much has changed around the house.

Not much has changed between me and Hope. We are polite, sometimes almost close to lovingly so. We might occasionally laugh about something together; I live for those moments. I feel like they give me a peek into the good times. I usually choke back a few tears when we laugh together or she wants to tell me something. We both have some very clear boundaries that we have quietly constructed. I give hers extra wide berth, while she likes to nudge mine just to see how far she can go.

I’m doing more cooking than I have in a long time. I cook on the weekends so there are options until about Thursday. I really cook for Hope. I might get a spoonful or bowl full when I’m cooking, but I generally will have smoothies, cereal, yogurt, bread, etc all week. I am only this week realizing how obsessive I’ve become about this weekend cooking ritual. Clearly some emotional stuff happening there. I also just know that I unconsciously increased the amounts I’m cooking It’s wild.

I wish things were different. I wish Hope truly believed and understood that we are forever. I wish after all these years she could enjoy some peace in permanence. I believe that there were many authentically joyful times, but I also believe her when she says it was fleeting or an act to meet what she thought were my expectations. I wish things were different in so many ways.

In 125 days, everything changes. It may make things horribly worse or it could be the beginning of another beginning for Hope. Only time will tell. I daily caution myself not to think that far out. I know it will zoom here sooner than I’m willing to acknowledge.

I’m keeping the faith that something will change, something will change.

Cheers to the week.


Just Breathe…

Time flies, doesn’t it? Seems like posted more recently, but alas, almost two weeks!

Things are kinda stable right now. I guess.

It’s hard to definitively say that they are because I so traumatized by the events of the last couple of months. It’s hard to buy into the fact that there hasn’t been an eruption in a couple of weeks.

I’ve been trying to resume normal activities, but it’s hard, My anxiety is high. My depression is dark. I’m exhausted, always exhausted. I break out in hives every day because I’m so stressed.

A few posts ago a follower inboxed me to suggest looking into a particular mental health issue. At the time, I just couldn’t because I was so overwhelmed. Ha! I’m still overwhelmed, but it kept swirling in the back of my mind. At the beginning of last week, another mental health provider suggested the same potential diagnosis, and so like the nerd I am, I got to reading.

I devoured websites, podcasts, Instagram, and TikTok accounts. I joined an online FB group for parents. I felt like this information was so helpful in trying to understand what was happening with my daughter. I consulted with Hope’s provider, who said, yeah, she meets the criteria, but he wasn’t ready to diagnose.

For serious?

Oh, ok. I mean, I get it but help me out here dude.

In any case, I know that Hope would reject the diagnosis anyway, so….yeah.

As for me, I’m proceeding with approaches that are consistent with what I’ve read. It’s hard, but I needed some kind of framework to move forward. I’m not *looking* to pathologize my daughter; I’m just really trying to give myself some scaffolding to help me meet her current needs. And after a couple of months of feeling completely lost, information about a possible diagnosis feels like a gotdamn GPS appeared out of thin air.

Hope has been going through a lot. She’s really emotional. She occasionally does things to try to provoke me (So far I’ve successfully kept my cool), but mostly she’s just moving the way she usually does. Of course, all that had me concerned before the summer started. I’m sadly not new to this; I’m true to this.

My family has so many questions:

Why are you sitting down with her to make monthly goals? (Because I do not have a deathwish.)

Should she really go visit her biological family? (I’ve made the primary contact fully aware of the current situation; we’re on the same page and Hope needs all the love and support she can get right now.)

Why doesn’t she have a job? (Because she doesn’t.)

Why isn’t she in school? (Because she isn’t.)

No. No you may not.

It’s honestly my least favorite part about this whole thing. I told my peeps right at the outset, there were going to be decisions that you won’t agree with, decisions that seem tough or harsh, and I don’t want to hear your thoughts on them because you ain’t living 24-7 in this here house. It’s just like biting into a cake that appears to be drizzled with chocolate, but upon tasting you realize it’s really motor oil. Ugh. Just say you love us and send love and chocolate without all the questions.

But, here we are. I’m just trying to be as gracious as possible because without them I would crumble. So, I take the good with the questioning and make it work.

I don’t know what will happen next. I still am reeling from the trauma of it all. My heart hurts because I have new knowledge of what Hope’s thought processes underpin her behavior: It’s fear. It’s always been fear. It might always be fear. I’m consumed with fear as well. I’m just hopeful that at some point I can steer us towards a path that offers us more support.

For now I’m counting breaths and just trying to push forward.


So Many Shoes

Things are mimicking something akin to normal. The time I had away last week was good for me and Hope.

Hope attempted to push some boundaries, and I decided to just give no reaction. One boundary really, really pissed me off, but I just kept those emotions to myself.

It’s been a quiet week.

But I’m still so incredibly anxious. My partner got to see the full scope of my anxiety in the last week. It’s good he’s a calming presence because I can only imagine he was a bit like, whoa!

For her part, Hope was just…something like normal?

No.

No really.

I got home to a totally different person.

So, yeah. It’s fine. We’re fine. It’s fine.

Narrator: It isn’t fine, tho.

I’m kind of having a mini-meltdown every day because I’m so traumatized by the last few months that I am unable to cope with this sudden change.

It’s like, if you were to see life in a mirror. It’s all the same, right? Wrong, everything is there and totally backwards.

That’s what I feel like I’m experiencing right now.

I swear I felt like there was a possibility that she might disappear while I was gone, and I’d never see or hear from her again. It was that fraught in our home.

I’m trying to enjoy the calm, but the energy is way off.

I’m trying to enjoy the calm, but I’m waiting for another shoe to drop on what feels like conjoined octopi. #somanyfeet #somanyshoes #somanydropping

My nerves are bad y’all. My muscles feel like rubber bands. My shoulders could double as earlobes. And those neck muscles that run behind the ear down the neck? They just ache.

But I’m working on keeping it all together. My gut tells me I can’t afford to have my own emotional meltdown at the moment.

Beyond my own reactions to this chapter, I worry incessantly about Hope I have no idea how she’s experiencing all this, how it feels for her. It’s disorienting to me, so I imagine it must be really hard for her to navigate all her feelings and behaviors.

I’m hopeful that this period of peace is long and settles into an authentic peace.

Hopeful. It’s also feels naively ridiculous because I *know* there is a shoe dropping somewhere in a forest right now. I might not hear it or see it, but I know that ripple will hit our doorstep at some point.

I really hope things get better, that she has the opportunity to make different choices, and to learn to give herself some love and help. I hope she chooses to find support in health ways, with healthy people.

I’m just so worried.

In other news, the one steady freddy in the house is Yappy. He was pretty freaked out by a few significant episodes over these last few weeks, but he’s the most resilient of all of us. He just serves up unconditional love all the time. He is more bonded with me, but he always makes time to see about Hope, napping in her room and getting super excided when she comes home or out of the bathroom (yeah, the bathroom. He’s got terrible separation anxiety.) He’s been a common focus the whole time, so Hope and I do have that.


The Wild Fire Continues

I wish I could say things are improving at Casa d’ABM, but alas things continue to decline.

In our most recent episode, I had to lay down a consequence that I wish wasn’t necessary. I knew it would be devastating. I knew it would feel like rejection for my daughter. I knew it would likely damage our relationship, hopefully only temporarily.

I consulted with medical and mental health professionals beforehand.

Of all the things Hope and I have been through, this is without question the most difficult, the most hurtful, the most damaging, and just the most heartbreaking.

I feel helpless.

I feel rejected.

I hurt so bad that it physically hurts.

I can’t fix anything.

And so I just have to keep going.

I know that Hope feels all this too, probably more and probably even more intensely, if that’s possible.

These next few months will be so hard. I don’t know what to expect. I have no template, no guideposts.

I have a great support team at the ready. I have resources that could be used to ease things, but it would be like papering over the challenges. We have the support of our family and friends.

And yet, I know that both of us feel very alone.

There are a lot of things I wish I had done differently over the last few months, but I don’t know if it would change our outcomes. I saw this collision coming, and it always seemed unavoidable. I did my best. I’m trying to play the long game.

I love Hope. I want her to be safe. I wish she could be happy; she’s told me before that she’s had moments of happiness, but generally it’s never been a persistent state. I want her to have the life she deserves, which is more than I could ever dream of. She deserves the universe.

I’ve learned these last few months that she doesn’t believe she deserves that. I’ve learned that her belief in our permanence as a family was always questionable. I’ve learned that she sees herself as broken beyond repair. I’ve learned that despite everything, she doesn’t believe she is worthy.

These revelations are just devastating on so many levels. I thought I knew how she was really doing. I thought I had created space for her healing somewhat. I thought if nothing, she knew I was her forever ride or die, even if I had to allow her to feel the full impact of consequences for her behavior. I also naively thought we had sidestepped so many challenges other families had experienced.

And yet, here we are, in a place having the experience that I tried my best to prevent.

Trauma is a whole bitch.

I believe Hope and I will get through this. I know the relationship will probably look so different in the future—though right now, my priority is to maintain any connection she will agree to. I believe she will go on to have a good life after this chapter. But right now, we are in the chapter that has all of the conflict, all of the sadness, all of the brokenness, all of the devastation.

Our home is currently not an oasis for either of us.

This weekend I’m away on business. I was excused from the trip, given all that is going on at home. I chose to go in order to give both of us a bit of space and time to just breathe without being on top of one another. We’re just doing “proof of life” communications at the moment.

Please continue to keep us, especially my beautiful girl, in your positive thoughts and prayers if you’re into that kind of thing. We need every shred of positive energy we can gather.


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