Dear Juliet...

For my Juliet.

The minute I saw the sun shining on you, making all of your little puppy fuzzy fur light up, I knew you and I were meant to be. Your name was already chosen.

You bore a heavy burden as a puppy. I'd hold you in my arms or lay beside you and weep over my recently deceased mom. You gave me such joy as I watched you grow, especially into those giant ears and nose. You let me cry as I stroked your fur, and I'd let you lick my arm until I fell asleep because I knew it eased your anxiety.

We had a bond, you and I. I was yours and you were mine. I loved you so much right from the start. And right from the start, I feared for when our journey would end.

You grew older and your sweet personality took form. You loved anyone and everyone - especially if they had exposed skin. When I brought Luna home, you turned into a mom, and I was blessed to watch you become a mom to a new puppy. Every time I watched you clean her face and her ears, my heart would leap with joy that you had a playmate.

You were my sweet girl. Your big, round, brown eyes softened my hear whenever I looked into them. I could never be mad at you... you were my baby girl.

When it became clear you were losing your vision, my heart would break. I told myself it was just because of your long nose that you would smack it into things. And then it was too late. But it didn't steal your happiness.

You were the big cheese out of the three, even having to teach Phoebe to learn her place in the pack. My blind collie ensuring her place. Part of my heart sank when I brought Phoebe home - she was the perfect playmate for Luna, but too much puppy for you. You still played with the girls, chased squirrels across the yard. I loved watching you "referee" Phoebe and Luna playing.

And then all of sudden... my sweet baby is gone. I knew it would be hard when our time together was over, but it's a different grief than I imagined. Your absence is what stabs my heart.

When I reach into the treat jar and only grab two instead of three, and I still expect to see you sitting there with your sisters, your brown unseeing eyes somehow finding mine.

When I leave my bedroom and walk into the living room and absentmindedly look for where you are cuddled up... then realize quickly that you'll never be there again. It's these moments when the permanent lump in my throat hardens and I begin to panic.

I remind myself that you are happy, healthy, and can even see now. I remind myself that you finally get to meet my mom and play with Emma again. I imagine you running and barking, with your tail wagging, as you play with the pets who came before you. I will cry over you for a long time, my baby girl, my Juliet. But I take peace in knowing our goodbye isn't forever. Thank you for being my friend, my secret keeper, my joy, my dog.

I love you always, Jules.

Uncle Nancy

Every girl needs someone in her life who is going to continue to be their cheerleader, their confidant, and their genuine friend. I've been blessed in my life to have had a lot of girlfriends as well as guy friends who fit that description. Some are still in my life, others are not - everything and everyone has a season in someone's life. And just like seasons, these people come and go. The only people who should fall into every season of your life is your family.

I've shared in previous blogs that I've lost a lot of my family, especially when it comes to death. I've recently lost the majority of my family on my mom's side. Having already lost my mom, losing the rest of my connections to her was a whole different kind of grief... but that's for another blog.

My dad's family, on the other hand, has always been supportive, loving, and truly accepting. They are a wild bunch who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty and aren't shy about being exactly who they are. Growing up, I was raised to believe that my mom's side was "superior" in some way to my father's. I don't know why... maybe because mom's side had money and dad's didn't. Maybe because they kept their dirty laundry locked up and buried only to be covered by the appearance of wealth and "happiness" while my father's side wore their's like badges of honor. We Eginoires are damn proud of our scars because it means we fought and we survived.

I'm ashamed to say I didn't realize how amazing my dad's side of the family was until recent years. And it took my getting arrested for this realization to occur. I spent two and a half days in jail, crying out to God and weeping on the phone to my father about what a mess I had made. And I had no one who could afford to pay my bond. Well, that's not true... plenty of people had enough money to get me out, but only one did: My aunt Nancy. This was no small amount of money, and she paid it without question. The minute I found out she was getting me out I immediately fell to my knees and thanked God. I started writing out a prayer and found myself weeping again as I begged for forgiveness for my lack of appreciation for this side of my family.

When I walked out those doors and saw my aunt's loving face, I burst into tears. She just held me while I cried and thanked her. She even spent the next few nights with me at home so I felt safe. She was my angel and I don't think I'll ever be able to truly express my gratitude for what she did that week for me and even for my dogs.

I am getting a little ahead of myself here, but I just wanted to paint you a picture of this amazing woman first. My aunt Nancy married my uncle Mike (my dad's brother) when I was still very young. When she entered into our special little family, she brought her awesome daughter (my bitchin' cousin) along with her. I remember being jealous that my new cousin was older and closer to my other cousin's age lol. She still was cool and let me hang out with her though ;)

My uncle Mike was very special to me. He lived a difficult life that ended similarly to the way my mother's did, he even passed away on what would have been my mom's 58th birthday. He loved me so much. It was a love I couldn't comprehend because I never felt like I deserved it. I didn't go out of my way to spend time with him like I had with my grandpa. But he loved me still - like how God loves His children: unconditionally. I remember one Christmas, his gift to me was the family Bible. I have no idea how old it is or how many people have owned it, but he chose to pass it down to me. And it was one of the best presents I have ever received.

Now, at some point, you might be wondering why I titled this post "Uncle Nancy." Well, for a period of time, I didn't know which phone number belonged to my aunt Nancy or to my uncle because he would call me from both of them, so at one point I had like 3 different numbers for my uncle Mike and only one of them was actually his. After he passed away, I figured out which one was my aunt's. But instead of changing it to Aunt Nancy in my phone, I lovingly left the "Uncle" in there. So she will forever be my "Uncle Nancy" in my cell phone. 😊😊

Since the night my aunt brought me home from jail, our relationship has only grown. That night I asked for her forgiveness for being such a terrible niece and for not making more of an effort in my relationship with not only my uncle and her, but with my dad's entire family. I actually think I apologized twice that first night we got home. And she just kept responding that I was a perfect niece and that this is what family is for.

She is one of the first people I call or text when I need to vent. Even this very evening, at 9:30 at night, she let me drive over there and just talk and cry over the frustrations of living life in this chaotic world. We've had our girl movie nights. She almost always insists on cooking dinner or even just a snack for the two of us. When Chris and I went over there so he could mow her lawn, she made us dinner and I ended up taking Chris home and coming back for another 4 hours just to talk and watch some Netflix. Just a few weeks ago we ran out of gas on her side of town and she was there with a giant container of gasoline within minutes (I was having a lovely emotional breakdown at the time too and even then she just hugged me and let me cry).

She's a strong woman who's not afraid to tell you like it is, but she always makes sure it's said with love. She loved my uncle Mike and stood by his side until the end. And she loves me unconditionally... just like Uncle Mike did. She's been there for me and Chris, for my dad, for my other cousins... she is truly one of the kindest and most generous person I know. And I am so thankful for her.

So, to my "Uncle" Nancy: I love you so much and you've been such a blessing in my life. Every time I leave your house I feel like I've gotten a huge dose of love. You're unfailingly kind and generous, and my time with you means the world to me. One day I hope I can show you the same generosity and grace you've shown me. Like I said tonight, I know uncle Mike is so happy that we spend time together in the house you guys shared. I can hear him calling me "Bailey Bug" when I'm driving to or from your home too. Every time. I cherish each minute we spend with one another and I pray that we can pack in as many of those minutes as possible. Like I said in the beginning, every girl needs a cheerleader, a confidant, and genuine friend, and I have all of that in you, Aunt Nancy. Thank you for everything.

My Mama D: Part 3

Alright, friends. This is why I wanted to share my dear Donna with you all. Remember how I told you how feisty she is? How much zest for life she has? It's been ripped away from her. Well, not her feisty ways... I think that is just permanent 😉

Donna has a rare auto immune disease that has literally taken over her life. There have been times when she's gone into surgeries not knowing if she will come out of them alive. I don't have the right words to describe all that she's endured the last 15 years since this disease began to destroy her body. In her own words, "I have had numerous major surgeries to replace my large blood vessels, not once, but twice in many cases. I have had two heart attacks and surgeries too numerous to count. I deal with chronic pain and I live in a state of toxicity everyday, because while on dialysis, any type of dialysis, your body is only cleared of about 10% of the toxins that your kidneys would normally filter."

This is what Donna deals with daily. This woman who dedicated herself to helping others for 22 years as an RN, is now living in a sickly state every. single. day. The disease has disabled her permanently, and now, it has caused her kidneys to fail. If I am correct, I believe one is already completely useless. Donna survives because of her dialysis. Donna also survives because she's a damn fighter - always has been, always will be.

And now, my mama D needs help. Because she can't make enough money (due to her having to live with a disabling disease) she hasn't been able to get the proper care she desperately needs. She's had to drive 700 miles just to meet with a surgeon! Bottom line - she needs a kidney transplant and needs the money just to get healthy enough so she can get one.

Donna absolutely despises asking for money. It's a humbling experience and one that I have definitely experienced myself. So for my mama D, I am asking on her behalf. She has a Facebook page set up as well as a youcaring page (I will include links below). Donna has always given 110% of herself to others; her children, her grandchild, her friends, her parents, not to mention her many patients. And now she needs help.

I will share with you a prayer that I prayed to God before one of Donna's major surgeries - one that I continue to pray for her today as well: Dear Heavenly Father, I beg of You to save Donna's life. Please, Lord, don't take her from me. Don't take away another mom from me. Don't take away a mother of three, God, because I already know the pain of losing a mother, and I know what it's like to still need them after they're gone. Please spare her children that pain, Father. Please, don't let another family lose their mother, sister, daughter, grandmother, and friend. I beg You, Lord. Amen.

I prayed this before a surgery that we weren't sure she would survive. I remember her calling from recovery, crying. I remember sinking to the floor when I heard her voice and silently thanking God for getting her through the surgery.

But I still pray the same prayer - because Donna needs a kidney. Without the transplant, she will die. This woman hasn't even hit 60 yet, people.

So I am sharing my prayer with you as well. Help me save my Mama D. Prevent another family from losing their mom, their grandma, their daughter, their sister. Help me save someone who has always helped me even when she was sick. I ask you to donate and share. Help me spread this to as many people as possible so that she has a chance at getting her life back - because she has so much more life left and more people to help.

Thank you all for reading about Donna.

People need to know who she is.

So they know who they are saving.

Listed below are links for more information and donation:

A Kidney for Donna

Click here to learn more and donate!

Mama D: Part 2

My mama D is someone that I've always looked up to, since the day we started swapping stories of our lives. She is, without a doubt, one of the strongest women I have ever met. She has been through the ringer, physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually - and this woman still has this zest for life that I've only come across a handful of times. She owns her past, including the good, bad, and ugly, and doesn't apologize for being who she is - and that's one feisty woman.

Due to my living in Iowa and Donna living on the East Coast, as well as my being a penniless college student at the time, visiting each other hasn't been something we've been able to do very often. But since our first in North Carolina, I've been lucky enough to visit her, as well as a few of my other LOST mamas, a few more times.

I flew to Florida for two weeks in May of 2011 to visit Donna and our beloved friend (my mama B) Beth, who, at that time, was in need of some extra physical help. Donna was living with Beth at the time and this was also my first time meeting my mama B, as well. A few other LOST mamas joined us on this trip as well, some flying from across the country to be there! Needless to say, it was a crazy, funny, emotional, and love-filled trip. Saying goodbye to each of them was just as difficult as it was to say goodbye to Donna that first time.

We were getting into some mischief of some kind that night...

In 2013, Donna and Beth (who are sisters in every way but blood), invited me down to visit for another two weeks, this time in Alabama where they were living at the time. Again, another one of my LOST mamas joined us (she and I have more of an Aunt/sister relationship though 😉) from across the country for one of the weeks I was there. It was another trip filled with relaxation, midnight margaritas, love, and lots of LOST re-watching lol.

Said midnight margaritas - they were very good, if I remember correctly. 

This trip, however, was the last time I was to see my beloved Mama B, though.

Beth passed away suddenly the following year, devastating all of us and everyone who knew her. Donna was with her during her last days, keeping us all up to date on her condition. Sisters until the end, of this life, as least. Sisters in the next as well <3 It was three years ago yesterday, actually, July 17, 2014, that we said goodbye to our Bethie. Part of this blog is dedicated to her, today.

I have one more left in store for this series on my mama D. so stay tuned to learn more about this amazing, beautiful, funny, and vivacious woman and why I want you to know her the way I do.

My Mama D: Part 1 - A Series

In one of my previous blogs, I shared about my relationships with the many "mamas" I have across the country and world. Well, I wanted to share some stories about one of my mamas in particular, Mama D - also known as Donna :)

When my mother passed away in September of 2010, I was at an extremely low point in my life. It was hard for me to get out of bed to go to work most days. I was a nanny during that time and those little ones brought me so much joy and love into my life, but some days even they couldn't entice me out of my room.

By January 2011, I was very depressed and on the brink of losing my job. Thankfully, that's when Donna and I connected and started discussing me making a trip out to North Carolina to spend a week with her. Now, let me remind you, at this point in time, I had never met Donna in person. But I had spoken on the phone with her many times, laughed with her until I cried, cried to her about missing my mom... but I had never met her face to face. I knew it would be a challenge for my dad to be okay with me flying to the East Coast to stay a week with a "complete stranger," but somehow, he gave me the okay to visit. Even payed for the plane ticket for me to fly there.

I wasn't nervous to meet Donna. I already loved her and cherished our friendship. She was a mother to me in many ways, but she was also fun and spunky and full of life. When I got off the plane, she was waiting for me in the airport with a big smile on her face. It's one thing to see pictures of someone and hear their voice on the phone, but to finally be with them? It's such an amazing and surreal experience. There's a part of you that knows this is the first time you are actually seeing them, but at the same time, you feel like a part of your heart has been there the whole time. She wrapped me in big hug, both of us giddy with excitement. And then off we went!

We drove to her house on Carolina Beach, right on the Atlantic ocean. I had never seen the Atlantic ocean, so naturally I spent quite a bit of time out walking on the sand, staring at the water. I even made sure to dip my toes in the surf (just once) in the middle of January, which naturally made Donna laugh her butt off. But I had to say I did it! Hello! ;)

Our time together was like a week long slumber party. We both slept in her bed (with her cat, Big Kitty) under her favorite Red Sox blanket. We drank wine and laughed until we cried. We'd watch our favorite episodes of LOST while snuggling under the warm blankies. She and her son introduced me to "Upta Camp," a hilarious stand up by Maine comedian Bob Marley (real name, btw). I'm fairly certain we listed to it all the way through at least 2 to 3 times. My face and stomach hurt from laughing so much.  (Here's a link to Marley's stand up: Upta Camp)


We went on a ferry to another tiny little town where I got some fun little souvenirs for some of the kids I watched back home. The ferry ride alone, though? Even then we belly laughed the whole ride because we kept trying to take a good picture but we couldn't stop laughing. And then, because we were laughing, our eyes were pretty much invisible in pictures, so that just allowed more hilarity to ensue.

I was holding her eyes open so we could see them while laughing :) 

 We would hang out on her porch and look out at the ocean while drank coffee and smoked cigarettes. We could even see dolphins jumping in the mornings. For someone from Iowa, that alone was pretty amazing. 

We even got our first tattoos together when I was there! My tree on my left wrist I got while in North Carolina, while Donna had a verse in Hebrew tattooed on her back. I remember the tattoo parlor was amazing, especially for the Marvel/DC nerds who came in because the entire floor was made up of comic books! I was very excited for many reasons that day :) I mean, check out this floor, you guys!

When it came time to leave, Donna put a tie-dyed stuff animal cat in my arms to snuggle with on the plane back home. We cried when we said goodbye. I never wanted to leave... I was at home away from home, and I didn't want to go back to reality. Especially without my Donna. We said our tearful goodbyes and I love yous before I had to go board my plane. I sat in my seat, put my headphones on, held my new cat tightly, and wept as quietly as I could as I looked out the window until we were in the clouds.

This wasn't the last time I saw my mama D, but I do believe this trip was the beginning of what truly bonded us and connected our hearts forever.

I have much more to share about Mama Donna, but that will have to wait until Part 2 of this little mini blog series :)

God bless, you guys <3

My house finally turned into my Home

I was excited, at first, when I was gifted a house all to myself and my dogs. I’d have all the privacy I would ever need, I could do whatever I wanted, and there was just this little semblance of freedom in having my own home. Did or do I own it? Ha! No no no, my generous father has allowed me to live here while I completed college and started my path into the working world.

While I have truly enjoyed my house with my dogs, I was wholly unprepared for the care and upkeep a house requires. I’d always dusted and vacuumed (among other things) as chores when I was younger. But I never considered maintaining a lawn, changing furnace filters, cleaning all those little nooks and crannies that you never think about but suddenly are covered in a layer of dust you can’t quite get off. Add three dogs into the mix and you start to lose control very quickly of how much dirt and dust is in your house.

Working full-time also complicates keeping up with a house as well. Coming home tired and grumpy does not typically lead to a cleaning frenzy or even keeping up with daily chores. On top of the stress of the daily activities, you also struggle with depression and anxiety. When the depression gets bad, you’re lucky to get out of bed, let alone clean something. It’s simple: You just don’t feel like it.

Then when you do have the time and energy to get it all cleaned and sorted out, it’s too much to tackle all at once. Too much dusting, vacuuming, mopping, wiping, spraying, etc. It’s just. Too. Much. So you settle for the little you do get accomplished and leave the rest. This then leads to another day where you have the time and energy, but again, get overwhelmed, do a medium level task, and then give up again. The cycle goes on and on and you never catch up and you watch as your once beautiful house decays before your eyes.

And it’s all your fault.

My house used to look like it was a model for a housekeeping magazine (minus my room, obviously). My mother didn’t work so she threw herself into keeping our home looking pristine. Never a dish in the sink, never a random pile of books or mail stacked on tables, never an area that wasn’t ready for company. I used to wonder what my mom did all day while I was school. Now I know… she was taking care of the house. She took pride in her beautiful flowerbeds and little gardens throughout the front and backyards. I never asked her, but I’ve always wondered if keeping our home clean and tending to all of her flowers was a form of therapy for her – a sense of control within the chaotic world she lived. Even as I type this, I already know the peace it gave her.

Imagine the shame in knowing that all of the work your mother put into her home, into her precious plants and flowers, was ruined by your lack of energy, your grief and sadness. I know my mother held our house to impossible standards compared to most people. But when you grow up only knowing “this way” of living, it’s heartbreaking when you can’t live up to those standards.

The dogs ruined her flowerbeds in the backyard, even tore up the majority of the grass. The flowerbeds out front weren’t maintained and just became a weed garden. The house began to show more wear and tear as we neglected to freshen the paint after the years. When I was alone, that’s when the house would get the worst. I would even keep my friends from coming over because of how dirty it was. I was so ashamed of the failure (as I once saw it) that I had let my house become.

I didn’t start to give myself a break until this year. I’m not my mother (though I am a lot like her). I didn’t enjoy working with the earth like she did. I didn’t have a husband and teenager to help with chores around the house. The dogs were a problem I brought on to myself, though I have never regretted bringing them into my family and home. I eased up on myself as I realized the different battles my mother and I faced, the different types of help we received. I’m quite in awe of my mother for how she kept this house running smoothly and looking like Martha Stewart’s. But I’ve come to terms with the fact that I was just not made the same way she was.

I’ve also been blessed with a partner who has a sense of pride in our home. Who will mow the lawn, sweep all the rooms, and then mop as well. Who makes sure the dishes are clean, the dogs are fed, and the house looks nice. Chris has made all the difference in this house. Just by his actions, he’s reminded me to take pride in our home once again. I’m still quite a-ways away from having a house that looks like Martha’s, but then again, maybe I don’t want it to look that way anymore (no offense, M-Stew). Maybe I want it to display who I am, who we are… maybe I want our home to look like us.

I don’t think that’s such a bad idea at all 😊

Emotional Abuse: Family Edition

One would think, that after all these years on earth, I would cease being surprised at the level of depravity and cruelty human beings possess. We are barraged with more and more stories of terrorist attacks, torture, murder, war… it never ends. I can’t watch the news without getting upset or anxious anymore. Even scrolling through my Facebook feed can be rocky territory! But this blog isn’t about the massive events that we all get to hear about. No, we have enough opinions shoved down our throats in that area. No, this blog is about the depravity and cruelty that people would prefer to hide behind closed doors.

This blog is about severe, intentional, and traumatic emotional abuse.

I don’t think anyone gets through this life unscathed. We’ve all been called names and been dealt harsh words at some point or other. But what is more common than it should be, is the intentional pain – when they fire off the perfect phrase that they know will make you crumble inside; call you that one name you despise; spread lies that discredit your words. For myself, this is one of the worst kinds of abuse because it so often comes from people that you are supposed to be able to trust, people you love and feel safe with. But the intimacy shared between you becomes a weapon in their arsenal to cause you the greatest pain.

Sometimes the abuse comes from a father who openly prefers one child over the other. The father who resents his son for being more of a man than him. The father who calls his son “little bitch boy” to make sure he knows his place and status – less than. The father who is so threatened by his son, he will spread lies about you to anyone who will listen, so no one will ever believe your cries for help. The father who actually takes the time to craft the perfect message that will hit your deepest fears and insecurities. The father who openly wishes you were just “gone” or dead.

Other times, the abuse comes from a mother who was so damaged as a young girl, she will do anything to gain some form of approval or love. The mother who will drink herself into a stupor then criticize the way you live your life. The mother who will happily say horrible things about you if it means someone else will “accept” them. The mother who calls the cops on you just to get you out of the house because her newest husband doesn’t like you. The mother who sold you to a man who wasn’t your father. The mother who left you AGAIN to be with her preferred children. The mother who uses your insecurities against you when you need her support the most.

Siblings can cause even more trauma. Like the sister who you spent your life protecting, but now uses your past mistakes to hurt you. The sister who used to beg for your help, but then claims you were never there. The sister who says you should never have been born; “a load that should have been swallowed.” The sister who you grew up with, loved, and cherished, now takes her time to deny every single thing you’ve ever done for her because she knows it hurts you. The little sisters who you happily fought for who now take joy in calling you hurtful names and hurl slanderous accusations at you. The sister who denies her own abuse to ensure that her bank account stays full. The sister who would rather see you dead than succeed.

Then there are those special families… the ones where that father? He’s yours. The mother? Her too. The sisters? The ringleaders of your emotional destruction. Do these families exist? Absolutely. I’ve been watching it in action for months as my boyfriend has been repeatedly beaten down by his family. They’ve even included me in, as I am another way to hurt him. That’s how cruel this family is.

I’ve watched as he has tried to defend himself in a group text with his father and sisters – in the time it takes him to even respond to one remark, they have hurled ten more insults, accusations, and lies to tear him down. Within a minute he can receive up to 20 texts from his sisters and father, all emotionally abusive, slanderous, and hateful. His mother was also cast out by her sister and daughters. Being the dutiful son he is, he comforted his mom, encouraged her and let her know she wasn’t alone in this. We spent many a day and night holding her hand, wiping her tears, and calming fights between her and her husband. We didn’t want her to suffer like he does. But when someone who cast her out offered her a kernel of acceptance and false love? She immediately jumped on the bandwagon that lives to destroy her firstborn child and only son. The “family” who actually thrives on trying to make him hate himself.

What is truly sad about all of this, aside from the intentional abuse, is that none of them know who he truly is. The good man who loves God, who comforts my dad, who rides his bike to raise money for children’s cancer prevention. The man who will jump into a river to save a malnourished dog. The man who would sell everything in his possession just to make sure his dogs are well cared for. They don’t know this man because they’ve chosen to cast him as a villain. Why?

No one likes the person who calls you out for who you really are: A pervert, a drunk, an addict. The best defense against someone who tells the truth?

Shatter their public image and character.

So let me correct those of you who choose to believe the lies and deceit, those of you who purposefully try to bring him down and tear him apart from the inside out: Christopher has always told the truth about his life. What has happened to him and his recollection of his past. He is a good man who only LOVES with that giant heart in his chest.

Stand up against those who persecute you. If you are scared to do it alone, we will stand with you. God will hold your hand.

Just know, that no matter what, you aren’t alone in your pain – and there is nothing wrong with reaching out for help. 

For All my Mamas

Family isn’t always blood. I have been blessed with family all over the world and I’m not related to them at all. But they have been with me every step of the way, since the day I met them, when my life has taken a turn for the tragic or traumatic.

Who are these people all over the world who have adopted me as their own? They are fantastic group of women (and a handful of men) who have all invited me into their lives and homes. I have lovingly called them my “mamas” because they have all shown me unconditional love. How have we all come together? A TV show called LOST J

I started watching LOST my freshman year of high school when it premiered in 2004. One of my best friends loved the show and got me hooked on it. We even incorporated some of the main characters’ names in a skit we wrote for school.

My freshman year of college, I found out that they had discussion boards online for fans of the show. A friend of mine who was also a fan of LOST said he occasionally got on the boards and I decided I would check them out. Low and behold, I found some sweet ladies who were regulars on the board who welcomed me to their online groups with open arms.

Their kindness and sharp humor is what immediately sucked me in. They would make me belly laugh with their jokes and jabs at each other. It was a safe space for us to talk about recent episodes as well as share little parts of our lives with one another. Slowly, I began to chat with some of the ladies via e-mail as well as on the boards, allowing us to share more intimate details of our lives and really get to know one another.

As the show started to head into its last few seasons, we began to transition to Facebook to connect with everyone. Being the youngest of our large group, I helped a lot of our family to create Facebook profiles. We were all able to console one another as we cried through the end of the series – the TV show that brought us all together and permanently changed our lives ended after 6 years.

It may seem silly that something like a TV show could make such an impact on someone, but for us, it was more than just a TV show. It was our first connection with one another and we fell in love with the stories and characters. For 6 years, we watched them grow and change, wept when a character we loved died, and shared our constant confusion at some of the crazier plots. At the end of the day, it was a home for us; a place of acceptance and love, something a lot of people look for their entire lives. We just happened to find it within each other through a shared love of a television show.

I was 19 when I first met one of my mamas in person. She lived in the same state as myself, and my college was relatively close to where she lived at the time. We had coffee at a coffee shop and chatted away like we’d known one another our entire lives. I remember thinking it was one of the craziest feelings to meet someone I spoke to every day for the first time but still feel safe and comfortable at the same time.

This was not our last meeting. When I was 21, I journeyed to North Carolina to meet another one of my mamas and spent a week with her. Again, the minute I got off the plane and saw her, I felt like I was already home. The entire week with her felt like a long slumber party; we would stay up late talking and sleep in late every day. We went on little adventures and I played on the beach (she still laughs that I stuck my toes in the Atlantic ocean in the middle of January). It was one of the best weeks of my life and I desperately needed the get away at the time. I bawled when I left, wishing I could just stay with my mama and keep laughing and talking every day away. I still have the stuffed animal she gave me when I got on the plane home. 

That summer I flew to Florida to stay with not only my mamas I had already met in person, but several others as well! We stayed at Mama B’s house where we met with other Losties and went to the beach and just generally had fun! It was two weeks of girl time and bonding and it was a wonderful way for us all to get to know one another.

About a year or so later, I flew to stay with another one of my Lostie mamas in Washington. What made this trip extra special was that another one of the mamas who lives in Canada drove down with her awesome daughter and spent the week with us! We did so much sight-seeing and laughing. We were even treated to a Lady Antebellum concert as well! It was a drizzly week but a week I will never forget.

The last time I saw my LOST mamas in person was when I flew down to Alabama to spend another two weeks with Mama B as well as Mama D and Mama S. Again, it was another two weeks spent lounging and relaxing – staying up all night and sleeping late into the day. We even watched all the seasons of LOST during the visit J

Unfortunately, this was the last time I saw my Mama B. I know she wouldn’t mind, so I will share that Mama B’s name was Beth. Beth is not the only Mama who has a special place in my heart, but she was actually the first one who I began speaking to outside of the threads. We always seemed to find more and more about us that was alike when we talked. She was a gentle, kind, and sweet soul. She was amazing and one of my heroes.

We lost Beth to a massive stroke a few years ago in 2014. It was another loss like my mother, where I felt like the very foundation of my earth was shaken. She slipped into a coma when she passed and Mama D was with her and her family the entire time, constantly updating us on her condition. I remember the afternoon it sunk in that Beth wouldn’t be waking up. I spoke with mama D on the phone and after we hung up I just threw my phone on the bed and began to hyperventilate and weep. All I could think was “not again… not another loss.” I couldn’t even fly down for the visitation and memorial due to a recent broken ankle at the time.

Beth passed away less than two days later. I got the call in the middle of the night from Mama S letting me know that Beth was gone. I felt the pit in my chest but knew that emotionally I had to shut down. Losing Beth was just too much.

Mama D was very close with Beth – sisters that found each other through a shared love of a television show. Mama D has been ill for a very long time with an autoimmune disease that has stolen so much of the last several years of her life. She continues to search for a doctor who not only can but is willing to perform a kidney transplant to give her back some quality of life. So far, she continues to meet dead ends and each time, I know that her children, myself, and Mama D lose just a little more hope that this can be fixed. While I have complete faith that God can and will continue to use mama D for the rest of her life here on earth, I also have faith that she can find a doctor who will take a chance on giving her back her life. I promise you, you have never met someone so filled with a zest for life and for simply living it. Just like Beth, she is strong and has an amazing warrior’s spirit. I have been truly blessed to know her and call her mom, friend, and sister.

I’ve included a few more details about a handful of my mamas, but in reality, there are SO many of them who have supported me since the day I posted on the boards. They have helped me financially, emotionally, spiritually… when my mother passed, they took up a collection for me as well as sent a beautiful bouquet of flowers to the funeral home.

After Beth passed away, I wanted to get a sunflower tattoo for her. I didn't want an ordinary sunflower though, because Beth was EXTRAORDINARY. So I asked a friend of mine to have her daughter draw me some sunflowers that were unique. Her daughter is especially gifted in art and she ended up designing my favorite tattoo that I have. Her mom loved it so much she even had it tattooed on her foot as well! 

Like I told my mom shortly before she died, I have more than just one family. I have family all over the world who love me and take care of me. I hope that I have shown them the same kind of love and support that they have shown me all these years. They’ve all been there through thick and thin and I couldn’t have asked for a better support system than this group of ladies. I am eternally grateful for them as they entered my life at a time when I needed them most. They have each left a significant mark on my heart and I will carry each of them with me forever.

Justice for Nanette

In a previous post of mine, I shared the abandonment I have experienced by my mother's side of the family. I have been accused of lying, of not having my "facts straight," etc. Everything in that post, came from my mother's mouth. I watched her suffer when she found out her family was talking about her behind her back. I watched her curl up in her recliner and cry over the pain she felt over not being able to see her grandchildren when my brother kept them away from her. I watched her drink herself into a stupor because she was in so much pain over her past and the losses she suffered along the way.

One of my aunts from my father's side of the family confirmed that what I wrote was true as she spoke with my mom at great length about what happened to her. My mom was a lucky one, though. She found GOD. She found sobriety. She found peace even when she tried to reconcile with her father after 16 years of separation and met only hatred and anger. My mom was a GOOD woman who loved her children, her husband, her sisters, and her family. But she was never good enough for them. But she was damn good enough for me and my father.

I believe that my mother wanted her story shared. That she still wants it shared. How many kids could be saved by just telling one person about what happens at home behind closed doors? How many lifelong and deadly addictions to drugs and alcohol to numb the pain could be avoided by no longer allowing this to happen?

Read the letter my mom left for my brother and I. The very one I was told to keep secret and then told to burn when I decided I wouldn't hide her words anymore. I'm going to shout until the whole world hears what happened to my mom... what eventually led to her early and tragic death.

To my family: I'm not attacking you. I am not trying to hurt you. But I will not let my mom's story just disappear like you all would like it to. I won't sweep it under the rug anymore. She deserves some kind of justice. Someone to fight for her and stand up for her. I couldn't save my mother, but I will send this to the four corners of the earth if it means one child is spared the pain my mom went through. You want to challenge me and accuse me of "bringing the family down" with all of my lies? Knock yourself out. Just because you've bought me things or sent me money does not entitle you to control my life - who I date, where I work, how much money I make, and what I even post online. This life was given to me for a reason and I do not intend on spending it trying to be someone I am not.

********The post I am going to share contains graphic descriptions of my mother's abuse. If you have encountered any type of sexual assault or molestation, please be aware that this may cause triggers for you. If reading this causes too much pain, I urge you to take a step back give yourself a break. Just know that you are not and will never be alone in what you have gone through. ********


Chris helped me with this and posted it on his Tumbler blog (which you should really check out - he's a great writer) in an effort to protect me from any backlash. He offered to be the sacrificial lamb for the people who are angry about this letter. But as he protects me, I will protect him as well. All names and addresses have been blacked out to protect those involved. Please read this and share. My mom wanted her message to be heard. Help me help my mom the way I wasn't able to when she was alive.

https://davidvsgoliath.tumblr.com/post/160319329227/davidvsgoliath-graphic-content-the?og=1&fb_action_ids=10154656091795172&fb_action_types=tumblr-feed%3Areblog

Testimony of a Wretched Soul

Spirituality is a strange thing. Once you fully commit your selfish will to God’s Holy Plan, life starts to look a little different. Complete trust in the LORD requires daily death to yourself and your ego. For example, I wasn’t sure what I was going to write about today, but I had a gentle nudge from God whispering in my soul: “Write about Me.” And for any Christian, especially one who has tried to fit into this world and follow Christ at the same time, there is a moment’s hesitation. “What will people think? How will this make me look?” But I have recently given my whole self to God, meaning that it no longer matters what people think or how I look to them. I no longer live for this world, but for His glorious Kingdom. While this brings a certain kind of freedom and hefty weight lifted from your shoulders, it also kind of feels a little like lunacy.

And that’s okay.

I have been raised in the church since I was 3-years-old. My dad would take me to our little Foursquare church every Sundaymorning and Wednesday night. Like anyone who was brought up in the church, you learn your key Bible verses and songs and take everything you hear as Gospel (is that a pun?). Eventually, you accept Jesus as your Savior (sometimes multiple times because you are an anxious child and just want to make sure your spot in Heaven is secure). For myself, I accepted Christ as my LORD and Savior when I was 8-years-old. And I continued to go to church, learn my verses, went to church camp. I even elected to be baptized when I was 14. I remember having this clean feeling when I came out of the water. I was elated!

 

Like most teenagers, though, I slipped up. When a youth leader I looked up to (a lot) suddenly left and went against everything I had been taught and believed in, I stopped going to church regularly. I had plenty of excuses too: play rehearsal, work, friends to hang out with, and being plain “too tired.” I reassured myself that it was okay because my mom was a Christian and she didn’t go to church. So I was fine too, right?

Well, when you don’t go to church and you lead a rather tumultuous home life, combined with depression, anxiety, and OCD, AND you aren’t praying, reading the Bible, or really doing anything related to God, He kind of slips into the background. And you leave Him there, thinking that you’ve handled it “okay” so far. You’ve been Saved and baptized – it’s all good. 

God loves you anyway.

Plus, when you keep God in the background of your heart and mind, you can feel less guilty about the “bad” stuff you do. I was a pretty good kid (in my opinion), though. Didn’t party all the time, didn’t do drugs, or smoke. I went to school, was in the “gifted” program, involved in theatre, had a job. I made it home by curfew, but I still snuck out at 2 in the morning to hang out with friends. But even then, we just went to parks to chat or went on walks. But then things fall apart.

I’ve written before about my breakdown when I was 19, and you better believe that I brought God back to the forefront of my mind as I thought I was losing it. I needed Him to help me, and I begged Him to everyday. And then as things slowly got better, I went back to how I lived before… I talked to Him less and less, didn’t read my Bible as much. I focused on work and friends and trying to be “normal.”

Then my mom died.

Mom passed away suddenly and tragically. And I was mad. How come God got to have her instead of me? I was only 21! I still needed my mom! I leaned on God to get me through, but I still did not yield to Him completely. So for the next 6 years, I ran from Him. I turned to Him occasionally, going through phases of re-dedicating my life to Him, but it never lasted. I still had so much anger and sadness and trusting God seemed like an impossible task. I could barely trust other human beings, let alone the God who let all these people in my life die, including my mom.

I still considered myself a believer. At the end of the day, I still believed that Christ lived in me and that I had a home in Heaven. I just didn’t know what to do with myself until I got there. I didn’t want to bend, to give up that control of my life to Him. But I was smart, I could figure this “life” stuff out. Who cared if I was miserable? As long as I did what people expected of me and I made it look like I was “okay” then everything would be just fine, right?

 

(My mother and I the day I was baptized a second time)

Wrong.

I went down the wrong path. I lost my way. I spent six months living a sinful and Godless life. But I had a job people assumed was perfect for me that paid well. I lost a little weight. I appeared to be “okay” but I was spinning out of control. This led me to getting into trouble and I found myself in complete and utter despair. I had put myself in a situation that resulted in my arrest. 

Me! How had I let things get so out of control? How had I fallen so far?

I always knew that God sometimes took drastic measures to get the attention of the person He is desperate to reach. I just didn’t think my situation was so drastic… apparently it was. I was forced to depend solely on God, literally brought to my knees by my mistakes and despair. I begged Him for forgiveness and laid my whole life on the line. I prayed that God would use my life and my soul and all of my being. I prayed that He take control of the wheel because I couldn’t drive the car without crashing.

I needed my boyfriend to push me that extra step, though. We had both gotten in trouble and God brought him to his knees as well. And woah buddy, did God get a hold of Chris. He was a brand new Christian putting me to shame! While I picked up my prayer life and devotional reading, I still wasn’t completely letting go. But then Chris handed me a book that opened my eyes to what I had always known, but never fully accepted.

 

 (No, he did not keep the mustache)

Heaven is Real, But so is Hell, by Vassula Ryden, changed everything for me. Vassula is a woman who receives messages directly from God, angels, Mother Mary.... and when you read them, as well as her experiences with spiritual warfare, you know she is telling the truth and that God is yearning for you just as He yearned for Vassula. For the first time in a long time, the words of Jesus came alive to me. I woke up one morning and wanted to read the Bible. I had to read my devotional. And I needed to pray.

www.tlig.org (Vassula's Website)

I gave it all to Him. I surrendered it all to Him. He has been trying to show me His love and grace for so long and I just kept turning my back to Him, thinking He couldn’t possibly still want the broken mess I had become. But that’s exactly how He wanted me! God works best in our weaknesses. And if I hadn’t screwed everything up as badly as I had, I would have continued to think that I could “do it all” on my own. I needed to mess up so that He could put me back together. I needed to make room for Him to fully encompass my soul. Once I did? Peace.

I heard Jesus for the first time in a long time. He reassured me of His love and told me He wanted to fill me with His joy. He told me how happy He was that I had stepped back onto the path of righteousness. And I was so happy! I am so happy! I know what my purpose is and I know that I have Christ right by my side, helping me glorify Him. He used Chris to help bend my will, as well. Chris could tell that I was still holding back something and that I hadn’t fully trusted God yet. But His passion and love for God is almost infectious. You can’t help but see how Jesus changed his whole life for the greater good.

When I stopped talking and started listening, that’s when He swooped in and reminded me of all the love He has for us through His messages to Vassula as well as His words to Chris and myself. Surrendering completely to God has also made it clear that Chris and I are partners and a team on this journey. We work well together and we intend on completing our goals and mission from God. It’ll be a long one, but it’s not anything we can’t do without Christ.

I pray for those who read this. Don’t run from Him. You can’t. If God has his sights on you, He WILL grasp a hold of you and He won’t let go. Let Him open your eyes and hearts. Don’t wait until it takes drastic measures to get your attention. It’s much easier if you just let Him in. God is all love and mercy, and He will never turn away the one who knocks on His door. This world isn’t forever, but thankfully God is.

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, 

the first and the last,

the beginning and the end.” 

– Revelation 22:13