by: Tmommy

Racing random ridiculous thoughts running ramped through my head.


Racing random ridiculous thoughts run ramped in circles through my mind while I close my eyes.

Words like years, time, baptism, heaven, solitude, leaving, mystery, horror, fear, lost, failing, work, school, dinner, money, taxes, sleep- De-Realization. I remember a time not long ago when I wasn’t always so anxious and worried.


I don’t know. I don’t have the answers I need and it stresses me out.

De-Realization? What does DeRealization mean to you??

It makes me anxiuous, and makes me feel unbalanced, uneven, unreal.

Is it something the just happens with adults?? Or do Kids understand it too? What is “De-Realization” To you? In your own words?

I apologize ahead, as this template is giving me anxiety. This Format is incorrect. For now it will do.

I dont know if it comes with age or if it’s something thats been there all along, just under the surface… dormant. I dont know if its that, or if it comes with wisdom. I don’t know exactly what it is. Everything gives me anxiety. Everything.

“My Season”

February & March used to be my all time favorite months, favorite seasons . If you’d have asked me 20 years ago, what time of year, or which season is my favorite? I’d have told you March. Fast forward 10 years & I’d have called it, ‘ my season.’

My season’s start and end date may or may not have always been the same, I can’t quite remember, but I do know that it would only slightly depend on the weather of that year. It generally falls somewhere between FebruaryMarch & April, sometimes May 😜. You’d have probably told me I was crazy if you heard me.

My season wasn’t really based on weather, at least not the way regular seasons are, but by Spirit, by Feeling, by the things I did and the people I saw. For years and years every time my Season came around, came a new group of friends to enjoy it with. Actually, and also for years and years, every time my season came back around, so would some of the same people. It was like, it was our season, our time we had for each other. ( or was it more like… we could only stand each other during these months? This amount of time? )

Of course, some of these people were Year rounders, and we’d venture out with our seasonal friends together, but the most important part is that this season always brought us a brandy new group of kick a$ people to go do some kick a$ $h!T with!!

I swear, I had always met the coolest people during my season. I had always had the Most fun I’d had all year, during my season. For years of my life, almost all of my teenager-hood. Not to say that I didn’t have fun, or that I never met new people during the rest of the year, and not to say I hated the rest of the year, because none of that is true. It just so happens, that I made some of the best memories of my life during my season. Because it was my season.

As a matter of fact, I met some of the most important people in my life, some of my favorite people, in the Summertime. I can still remember some of my favorite memories that took place during the summer, with some of the people that I’ll never ever forget.

I make my own seasons, and I love every single one of them, I’m just talking about this 1 specific season today because; as much as I loved it almost all my life, I now equally cannot stand it today. I don’t hate the memories or the friends or even the regrettable adventures, ( I don’t regret even the regrettable, not even for a moment, not even the ones in Randolph 😜 ) .

What I hate is , what it has taken from me.

A friend, an ex lover, 2 lovers, a best friend for life, a pregnancy, a partner in crime, a soulmate and time. That isn’t even the half of it, and I’m sure it’s not done yet.

I can’t say it has been all bad. I was given one of the most precious gift’s on this Earth in February 5 years ago. My LuLu❤️.

There are many many things, many times, many dates, many memories & many people, that I am grateful for and grateful to my season for. I am grateful, grateful for every experience I’ve ever had. Grateful that today is February 28th, 2022 and I’m here at home with my family. I’m not in jail, I’m not gone, I’m not using, I’m not in pain, I’m humble. I’m grateful to and for every day of life, but that is just not what this is about. This is about what I always thought was my time of year.

This is about why I stopped loving my season, the season of February, March and April (&sometimes May) as much as I did 10+ years ago.

I think there have been many of my seasons that have since passed without incident, but I also could be 100% wrong.

I’ve learned to take the good with the bad, to smile when I’m sad, to remember what I’ve got & to remember what I have.

So with that being said, here is what I remember.

February 2010.

The good : This was when my DH & I became us. ‘Twas a little messy at first, and it all started in a dark, cold basement, over a game of strip uno. We were both all over the place at that time, but that was okay, it worked at the time.

The bad: Well, for starters, I had just fully upgraded from pills to H the month before. I was drinking way to much ( which is nothing new). Clearly the two helped get me to this next memory. My first time in Prison. The first time I was wrongfully taken from my child, due to her fathers anger and spite. My first restraining order, a random crazy, party that I crashed, and a *67 prank phone call that I never should have made.

2012 just wasn’t the greatest year all around. i cannot remember anything specific of that atm, but I’m sure I will later when I’m much less distracted. – I just remembered as I was typing up 2013. February 2012 I had relapsed. It was when DCF came along. They intended to take my children away, but they didn’t until that May. 2012 was a really bad time for me all around.

January & February 2013 . Let’s start with New Years Eve. My DH & I had spent the entire month of December in what felt like a dream. We nodded through Christmas and that was when and why I made the decision that brought me to NYE. I made a promise and I kept it… at least for the time. NYE we got high for what I said would be my last time as he drove me to HighPoint, a place that I had often frequented in my many attempts at getting clean. I made it! I did it! I got through Detox& spent the rest of the month next door awaiting a bed at a halfway house. I was really doing it this time! The farthest I had ever gotten. I had a blast in there with the same group of people for a month. We were the “cool kids”, the ones who’d go on to the places & the ones who’d make it. I made it to the island. I was there a month, until someone got drugs & I did NOT DO THEM– I was too busy sneaking in my script of suboxone. But still, she pointed the finger at me and I was kicked out. My season only got worse from there. It was bad. My DH had left & was running harder than he ever had.

When I told him I was home, he came home, and I went right back down with him. My probation officer was looking for me & we were sleeping in our abandoned Gym for 2 weeks. It was bad. When they finally came, they came rolling deep. 13 cop cars, 5 sherif / county cars – it was bad. It ended with me back in a prison cell. That was February 28th 2013.

I spent a month before ending up in the hole for 28 days , when I got out of the hole, they told me I was pregnant. I didn’t get out until June & that was the year I was sent back for a false positive urine & had my baby On Halloween 2013, from Prison. i didn’t get out until late November.

2013 was bad. But February 28th 2013 was my sober date.

February 2014. I suffered what was one of my closest losses at the time.

A love lost. Half a decade of memories taken away in the blink of an eye. Except for, it wasn’t. He wasn’t gone in the blink of an eye.

He was left. He was suffering. He was in and out, until he was just out. That was it. He was gone. And I’d never ever see him again. Every memory we made together, gone with him, only to stay in my mind alone. It feels like they were all just dreams.

It tore me apart at my core. My heart, my soul was crushed. I’d never felt anything like this and it didn’t look good on me.

2015 On February 28th 2015, I was working overnight and after 2 years of hard work, effort, sobriety, love & happiness , I relapsed. It wasn’t until May 15th that my DH took my children and left. It wasn’t until November 1st 2015 that I once again got sober. There were attempts, but none of them as sincere. I was getting my family back. I had done, lost, and given up, way too much at that point.

2016 January 1st my family came home. Except, our home was gone- I had lost it months before, but we needed a new start. Our new place was awful, and we stayed only a month before I realized the cockroaches. February 1st 2016 we were homeless. We stayed in a Motel in a nice area for 3 weeks until we decided to leave the state and head to family in NC. But that didn’t last more than a month & by April we were at my family home in New Hampshire & a month later, I found out I was pregnant again.

2017 January one of my Best friends passed away. One of my longest friends. One of my closest friends. She was gone, and would never get to meet my baby. We would never again play Scattegories or drinking games.

February 2017 I had my amazing little girl. My 4th amazing child, my 3rd perfect little girl. It was one of the best times of my adult life. A milestone for my family. Surrounded by family, living on 80 acres in the middle of nowhere, with our own farm and the closest Walmart a 45 minute drive. As great as it was and as wonderful as we had it there, we decided the kids needed more. I wasn’t able to see or speak to my oldest child, even with all my hundreds of attempts, daily voicemails & texts- as her father turned into the Devil , it had been a year , we needed to move closer. I couldn’t live happily any longer without my girl.

So we moved to the City, now a 40 minute ride rather than 3.5 hours, from my daughter.

Her dad put me through HELL, he made me take a, however many week DIVORCE CLASS ( we were never married) before I could even get a 15 minute phone call. I did what I had to do, and worked up to being back with my oldest daughter. I found out he got married – and once again, he was back on his spite trip, his power trip.

Mom’s Valentine’s Day 2022..

As I sit here threading gold braided twine through each and every one of The Who knows how many , Valentine’s Day Bookmarks I hurried and began to make at around 6pm… because that’s who I am- I’m that mom- I’m last minute mom, last minute woman . I’m questioning my sanity.

How many of these bookmarks will actually be used??

How many of those time eating bookmarks are gonna be in recycling bins and trash barrels around my town tomorrow??

As you can see, I’ve been busy.

This gives me perspective to share, a different perspective… multiple perspectives.

I’m that mom that carelessly, mindlessly , tosses the 3-4 bags/boxes filled with valentines away each year. Maybe not that day, that month, or even that year…. But eventually, they end up in a land fill from an annual purge.

I am that mom.

I am also the mom scrambling last minute to come up with simple ideas to incorporate into Valentine’s for four different age groups/ four different classes, without candy or snacks / food of any sort.

I’ve got to come up with a valentine, omit the candy hearts. Maybe I don’t have to come up with it, but I do have to follow through with the creating process.

I am the mom who stayed up all night finishing , cutting, tying, d.i.y-ing, cricut-ing .. to make sure each of my children had a bag of unique valentines to pass out to their class. ( Luckily daycare allows certain snacks 🙏🏻🤫🥳)

So tomorrow, Today, if we don’t have a snow day – when our kids run into the house from school, dump their backpacks on the ground, reach for their bag ( or box) filled with a large variety of valentines from each and every one of their classmates – I’m going to remind myself to be more present.

To stop and enjoy going through them with each of my children. Be equally excited.

Not that I’m usually not that way anyways / just sometimes need to stop and remind myself to slow down.

Listen , whether the kids valentines are store bought or hand made, they are usually equally thought out – it’s not something that needs too much effort on any end . Tonight I struggled with computer updates, and software issues , my laptop kept freezing right before go time – my cricut kept eating and tearing the bookmarks right at the very last steps…..

I just wanted to make sure they had something –

And now they do. And I’m exhausted and have my full body bone scan at 930 am today… but I chose to get those valentines done, and I’m not even a little bit mad or upset over it- I’m pumped I got it done.

I’m this mom, I’m that mom, I’m Mom, and they didn’t hand me an instruction manual after any of my births.

Happy Valentine’s Day y’all 😘😍❤️😘

xoxo. Tmom

There’s a little mom truth for today – food for thought .

an irreplaceable feeling

It’s something about our touch.. our sounds, our stillness & sense …

My children have all had a period of time where they slept next to me, and they had to be touching me. In some way or another; They could be on the other side of the bed, yet their tiny foot/feet were making contact with me.

My littles one moves around in her sleep when she feels or hears me near & doesn’t stop moving til she’s making contact with me.

My heart beat .

This must be why they said skin to skin…

These babies grew inside of us. You literally cannot get any closer to us, to our hearts, than the children you birthed. Not taking away from anyone else in any way – just giving my perspective.

They want to hear our heart beating, feel our hearts beating. There’s a comfort in that, that some just cannot go without.

To me, it’s important.

To me, I have to cherish it.

It won’t be this way forever – I keep reminding myself this. I keep reminding patI keep saying it outloud but I still have to remind myself,, I still forget.

These babies aren’t babies forever, so I believe in closeness. I believe in cuddling, hugs, goodnight kisses, bed sharing & I believe in giving into it.

Maybe it can be a lot … but it isn’t forever.

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CcccccccM. I’

Very much like you, I’m stubborn. Maybe we’re stubborn in different ways. Either way.

I thought of you tonight. It was the first time in a long time that ive thought of you. I even searched your name on messenger,nothing recent.

For all I know , those messages go back 10-15 years… maybe I’d smile? Maybe I’d cry?

Idk. I don’t even want to.

Know, that is.

Can I start over, by saying how grateful I am that your alive??

Maybe I’m a hypocrite. But never in bad form or intentionally. I love you.

You’re a piece to my puzzle. Actually, a missing piece. How it’s been so long just doesn’t even make sense to me.

We were best friends for years

My longest friend.

I wish you were here to see, and hear SO MANY THINGS .

I love you. I miss you col.

Our babies have grown, my kids aren’t any longer Tiny infants and toddlers. We are no longer each other’s best friends.

And it’s my fault for being so weak.

I’m sorry that I was unsure of who to really trust with what just yet.*

I’m sorry you were backed into a corner.

I’m sorry that you blame me.

Overall I’m just so sorry for not being who you needed me to be, the best friend you needed in me.

I hope you are on top of the world with those boys.

Girls- both of you . I love and miss y’all more than I could show ❤️

ALL my love, and BEST wishes. From a blog you may never see . xoxo

Truly yours,


***That my friends alone is a lesson – every person you trust – can and should ONLY be trusted with the type of ishhh they can be trusted with – otherwise- you literally cannot trust them. One per genera .

The kids double Halloween Birthday Party

I did it! It’s over … we got through it – I survived the panic

Is it Safe?

Everyone wants to know, is it safe?

Vaccines, shots, medicines, pills, etc.

Everyone wants to know. So how come when an addict asks, is it safe, do non-addicts question their sensibility? Because addicts, who have been addicted to street drugs were willing to, not only administer an ” I.V”, on their own, but an I.V filled with God knows what!!?


I can get with that, but I can also get with this.

Our government is not trusted by MANY, MANY people. The reason we are/ were, ever addicted in the first place, in one way or another, is related to the government. The government runs this country. Fuck a simulation, that isn’t what this is! There are no pimpley nerds sitting behind V-R goggles eating a slice of burnt pizza dripping greese all over their laptop while they control our simulated world ( as the theory is going) – No. They are in suits and ties up in pent houses, on wall street, on our T.V screens, in OUR white house, speaking publicly, telling us what to do, and when to do it. They are all around us, Running our world.

They gave us the medical drugs. They did nothing about the street drugs. It is, was, will always be, up to us.


So is it safe? Is birth control safe? Is Narcan safe? Is Prozac, adderall, or Naltrexone safe? What about the flu shot? The COVID-19 vaccine?? The MMRA baby shots? Zoloft? Zofran?? We do not know.

Question; Is it safe to eat shellfish during pregnancy? – This right here is solely an example of my point- the answer may sound something along the lines of this next part… “Just because I spent 10 years booting heroin into my veins does not mean I do not care. It does not mean I want to live a risky, unethical lifestyle. It does not mean I am no longer cautious. I still ask. I want to be informed. I was probably one of the most well-informed junkies back in the day.” – Say what you will.

Is heroine safe? No. That answer is simple. No, it was/is not safe, nor sanitary, for us to administer an I.V to ourselves, or others, in the Handicapped bathroom stall at our local Mcdonald’s. We know all of this. This is common sense. We did what we were always told not to do. We did what we saw, what we were shown. What we were around. What we thought felt good. We did it because it did feel good.


Where did we all end up???

We ended up sick. Sick, confused, and in a type of pain that we did not yet understand.

Then we ended up waltzing into courthouses, these places we had never been, we walked through crowded rooms filled with judging eyes, down dark halls, and we even learned of outback basement EXIT doors that we had not known existed. “So that’s where the prisoners go”. We answered to complete strangers, people who we had never met, we answered to men and women in long black gowns who we quickly learned we were not allowed to talk to.

Then we went to hospitals. Through Emergency Room doors. Some of us got a ride in, while others desperately crawled. We were watched by more strangers, for 12 hours at a time. Laid up in our hospital beds, while our entire bodies were dying.

You sent us out with little brown paper lunch bags filled to the top with what you called comfort. You said see you in 2 weeks, be sure to attend all of our meets!

For me, that was it, I was gonna quit! We went home on our missions, took all the pills that you called comfort, 3xs a day, and we I felt the best feeling I we had ever felt. Except… wait, feeling? What do I feel?? – I woke up and had just been dead. – The feeling was the addicts little baby, jumping on her head –

Then some of us walked crawled into Detoxes, while others were literally dragged, sick surrounded by sick. We could never even remember the first few days. We had Detoxes stuffed with some kind of hope, hope we gave to one another. Hope that started with, well, since your here too I guess it isn’t that bad.. and ended with I’m clean and sober now can I have a job? I want to fix people like me… I’m cured! – — We were addictions Science experiments. We were Addictions Frog dissection. We did day programs, we went inpatient, we did everything we could think of to fix ourselves.


Instead of applying to colleges or for jobs, we applied for halfway and Sober houses. We waited on lists, and even then we still had hope. List’s is that all we are to you?? Names on a list? Nothing more.

We heard the messages, we got the stories, we took it all in over, and over and over again. We knew the phrases and sayings off the top of our heads, we would even say them to our friends.

But it wasn’t over yet right? They said that relapsing is okay, that relapse is a part of our recovery.

So we did just that.

Then we walked were dragged back through those courtrooms, our names on more lists filled with names. Except for this time we were escorted in through that back, basement door. Held in those cold, dry, smelly spaces, awaiting our time to be judged. We were hauled into courtrooms filled with so many familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Then, You took our kids away. Our families were broken apart, split into pieces. Broken.


Broken, some of us fought.

You gave us tasks that were damned near impossible. You wanted us to work full or part time, do the 12 steps, go to 4-5 NA or AA meetings a week, while taking anger management classes, parenting classes, and doing IOP ( intensive outpatint programs) 3 days a week!! You wanted us to have no contact with the people who had our kids, even if it was our mothers and fathers. You made us drop everything we were doing at any time, to have us come pee in a cup for you. You wanted us to be stable, with homes,and jobs and certificates, going to meetings, whilst practicing the 12 steps.

We were like monkeys in a cage. Like otters at the zoo. You told us what to do how to do it where to do it and when to do it without caring about us. About what we went through. You wanted us to do the impossible.

You dragged us through family courts, through criminal courts, and civil courts, all to make us pay. Justice. Justice?


We went to Prisons, institutions, jails. ( familiar context?) We met many, many, faces and crimes we would never have thought. We saw things we had only seen in movies and on TV, never did we think we would see some of the things.

Then some of us got clean. Some of us are here. Some of us did the impossible and then some. Some of us are here, but we will never be OK.


Some of us did not make it that far. Some of us had to say goodbye to each other, goodbye to the Earth, goodbye forever to our future. Some of us are no longer here.

More of us than not, are no longer on this plane.

We are in Jails. We are In Prisons, we are in Institutions, and we are dead. We are here too. We are here, and we’ve gone above and beyond proving ourselves capable. Proving ourselves to you. Proving that we deserve a say, We deserve the right to not be judged, an to be able to ask is it safe.

Because the last time we thought it was safe, when you wrote us those scripts for our broken bones, sports injuries, sprains, aches, etc – we believed you. And look where it got us??


Y’all I don’t do political conversations or usually even anything close to a post like this…. I’m just feeling.

TODAY I’m Feeling stuck. Feeling disconnected. I don’t feel like I’m heading in any particular direction, good or bad. Just stuck. Still.

I’m unsure. I’m pissed. I don’t know. But I do have stuff I want to say. There is so much unsaid I need to say.

Ever craved to do something big? I say crave, because desire isn’t even a strong enough description of the feeling. You want it so bad , to do it so bad, yet your not even sure what it would be.

Please consider

Rest in The sweetest Peace Robert <3

03.25.1990 – 02.08.2021

In times like these, we are supposed to come together as a community. We are supposed to have each others backs. It takes a village, and right now, even more than just that. Lets make a difference today.

It was true. He is gone. Rob is gone. He left behind his family, his friends. He left behind my darling friend Alex, and their 2 beautiful babies, Mila & Sean, only 3 & 4 years old. Tonight, 2/18/21 is his wake. Tomorrow he will be laid to rest, next to his father, who passed away when Rob was a kid. Its tragic.

The whole thing, is Tragic. Our Birthday will never be the same. Rob and his twin brother and myself shared a birthday. I can’t imagine Rich’s pain. I wish I could do more, but I have been trying to keep a healthy distance, for everyone.

Its fine. I can do it silently.

So, I made a meal train for her and the kids for the next few days / weeks, whatever I can cover. I cannot do it alone, as much as I truly wish I could. I’d like to ask my followers a favor. Please.

Alex also has a Go-Fund me , as she had to leave her job, to be with her children during this time. She is now to raise her and Rob’s children, without him, alone. This is new, its a fresh wound. A deep deep wound that will scar us forever. She has to navigate for herself, and her children, through this new, unwanted world of theirs.

Please help me by clicking this link here, or below, and, if you aren’t close enough to take part in the meal train, please consider sending a door dash or grub hub gift card through the meal train link. It is so simple and easy, and yet it will truly go such a long way. Even $15, on a door dash card, so that she can focus more on getting herself and her babies though the next few days, especially.

Calling a local-to-her, Pizza joint and ordering her and her 2 kids a couple pizzas, or chicken finger dinners, anything.. simple, easy, cheap – it goes such a long way. Please, consider helping me to help her and those babies this week.

Please reach out with any questions & thank you all in advance <3

Alex’s family

Here is the Go Fund Me below – every other link is the Meal Train

To Give up

I am a fighter. I’ve found that fighting is what I do the most. What I do the best. It’s not that I want to be a fighter. I don’t like to have to fight for everything. I don’t even realize it when I’m doing it. It’s just what it is.

If someone takes from me, I want it back. I will get it back. I will do every possible thing in my power, to get said thing back.

I’m sure of that. I don’t give up ever. If I do happen to fall short though, it is not for very long. So I just say instead that I do not ever give up. I will never give up.

Dramatic as it may sound. It is cold hard truth, bruh.

I’ve been fighting this way for 12 solid years now. But it feels like forever.

I fight for what I want. I make it a point to get it.

Whats the whole point of everything anyways?

Does it really mean that much if you can just take it? Is it even important to you? Does it really vibe with you, call to you?

Yeah, Fight or Flight is human nature, its instinct – for every friggin situation. Right?

Fight, Flight, or Bite your tongue? That’s basically flight?

I know all that has been said, but maybe sometimes I give way too little credit.But,- Well, what are the options? What does giving up consist of anyway?

I guess it must be different for everyone though, obviously.

I mean, giving up for me could also be a lot of things. Just, when I’m having a crappy day, I think of that, like.. “ugh I give up”, “I’m loosing it”, “I’m all done.” Like, what do I even mean by those things?

I’m not friggin done with life. I just give up hah. I can’t go use drugs. Not that I want to but I mean, that’d be a form of giving up for me.

Can I run away though??

No.. haha although, I wish. *silly faces*

I’m playing! Gotta lighten up my mood some way or another. Whats up with you tonight? How was your day? Anyone have a different theory/ opinion? I’d love to hear it :]

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Preview(opens in a new tab)about:blankAdd titleTo Give up

I am a fighter. I’ve found that fighting is what I do the most. What I do the best. It’s not that I want to be a fighter. I don’t like to have to fight for everything. I don’t even realize it when I’m doing it. It’s just what it is.

If someone takes from me, I want it back. I will get it back. I will do every possible thing in my power, to get said thing back.

I’m sure of that. I don’t give up ever. If I do happen to fall short though, it is not for very long. So I just say instead that I do not ever give up. I will never give up.

Dramatic as it may sound. It is cold hard truth, bruh.

I’ve been fighting this way for 12 solid years now. But it feels like forever.

I fight for what I want. I make it a point to get it.

Whats the whole point of everything anyways?

Does it really mean that much if you can just take it? Is it even important to you? Does it really vibe with you, call to you?

Yeah, Fight or Flight is human nature, its instinct – for every friggin situation. Right?

Fight, Flight, or Bite your tongue? That’s basically flight?

I know all that has been said, but maybe sometimes I give way too little credit.But,- Well, what are the options? What does giving up consist of anyway?

I guess it must be different for everyone though, obviously.

I mean, giving up for me could also be a lot of things. Just, when I’m having a crappy day, I think of that, like.. “ugh I give up”, “I’m loosing it”, “I’m all done.” Like, what do I even mean by those things?

I’m not friggin done with life. I just give up hah. I can’t go use drugs. Not that I want to but I mean, that’d be a form of giving up for me.

Can I run away though??

No.. haha although, I wish. *silly faces*

I’m playing! Gotta lighten up my mood some way or another. Whats up with you tonight? How was your day? Anyone have a different theory/ opinion? I’d love to hear it :]Name(required)Email(required)Please rate our website(required)

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Photo by Gabriela Palai on

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Diagnosis X

This story was written by a mom in 2019, and never published due to fear of anonymity. Here is The Story through her eyes…

My best friends diagnosis… 

Diagnosis X…

I am a recovering drug addict. I’ve been Sober for 4 years off hard drugs. I have an amazing, caring,kind & understanding fiancé & 5 amazing children, all of them have helped shape me, and helped me get to where I am today. This is not my story, but it is my summed up, brief version of a story I played a role in. 

  I’ve had this friend since we were… kids , we graduated the same year, had kids around the same time, each time. Unfortunately, I followed a path that my friend knew was no good. She tried to put in her 2 cents, but back then, it didn’t matter to me. So as much as she loved me, and my child(ren) , she had to step back and live and focus on her own life in her own ways, finding, fixing , and building her own paths. She still saw me for who I truly was though. No matter how much time had passed, or where we were.

A relationship here, A Marriage there, a lost cause here & there, she was a young, single mother, divorced homeowner with an even younger boyfriend (cougar alert!!) , good jobs, growing companies, and her young growing daughter. When she found that younger boyfriend, she was in a tough place , a place of in between, and she fell so easily in love , as he was there and helped her pick up all the pieces leftover by all the damage that was caused before him. 

My friend was happy. Happy in her home, with her daughter & her young fiancé. Happy with nature, love and light. She worked, he worked, the child went to school. She babysat her friends kids on the side, had all the friends and family in the world… but she felt there was something still missing… a void of sorts…. 

 And then he came back. 

  This other younger boy she loved all through grade school made a reappearance in her life, he was in active addiction, and homeless, and she wanted to fix him, she wanted to help. She wanted to do anything to get him out of his hell. He stunk like b.o, had tracks on his arms, his neck, and picks on his face, ‘that’ was always in his lap. His family had hurt him, he too hurt them back… and he’d cry in her arms shedding all the tears and cover up all of his truths… with the lies he called truths… but he kept his secrets in his eyes… and his eyes locked on hers.. but all she saw was pain, hurt, and love.

  So she’d take him in, under her wing, where he would be safe from all the other addicts on the streets , safe from his family, safe from pain, safe with her, she was his safety.. she thought “safe” was what they were…. Boy was she so wrong… 

  They became best friends, super close .. (that was his manipulation and that’s not even close to as far as it goes). So she fell back in love, and she fell HARD. So hard for him that no one mattered besides him & her daughter. She realized HE was the piece that had all along been missing. She cut ties, burnt bridges and went to bat for this boy, doing everything in her power to help him to stay clean and sober. Meanwhile she had just built her empire up. She had JUST gotten to where she needed to be, but again… there was a piece she always felt was missing… 

  This went on and on for years and years, burning bridges together left and right, until all that she could saw… was him, that he was the only one there. He was the only one left, the only one she wanted. It made her feel so special. She was willing to lose everyone else, besides him & her daughter. She just did not care. If you didn’t like him, you were dead to her. There was nothing and no one left for them in this city. 

 So he took her away. He took her far, far away, miles and miles, hours and hours, from her family and friends… burnt bridges or not… he got her alone, and it is exactly where she wanted to be, and explicitly where he wanted her. 

  They moved all the way across the Country, so far that no one would know, of the girl she once was, the girl who had everything and still was not where she wanted to go. This girl had a connection with this boy from grade school, a connection he made her believe was so deep, that she could, not only feel his pain, his happiness, his worry, his wants, his needs… but she could see it through his eyes. She could feel everything he put off to her, everything she wanted to see, everything she wanted to feel. He was the one, and that’s what she saw, felt, and truly, with every piece of her, wanted.

( The feelings? It’s called being an empath, but at the time, he told her it was theirs, all and only theirs. It was a connection no one else would see, or believe, but her. She was no longer grounded , although she believed she was…she would figure it all out in later years.) 

They struggled, but they were happy. On Facebook, you could see it, but I quickly came to see, that their life was a mirage of happy stories and images. Happy as they were, they went ahead and planned for a baby. 9 months of jumping around from hotel to hotel, camper to camper, they had this super unique, intensely beautiful little girl, daddy’s girl, his “first” baby. So special, but he still didn’t see it.

  She found pictures and texts, hidden profiles and links, videos, & images that her mind and eyes could never erase. She had messages from some someone’s he had no business seeing. She loved and knew this boy so much, so well, yet there in front of her unfolds a story of a boy she does not, and refuses to know. 

  Time went on, years went by, more babies were had. He proclaimed his love and promised to forever change. She tried to believe him, she loved him and he loved her, he made her feel things she had never felt, experiences she’d never endured. The connection. The love. True love on a whole other level. So deep a connection, most would call it a story.

  My friend came home, family of 6 in tow, including her man, the boy.. the one who she just could not let go or walk away from. 

  Some sat waiting, patiently so.. some ran to her with opened arms & closed mouths… afraid that when they speak… she may go. 

And then there was me…

  I am an addict in recovery. And I understand. I obviously was not the only one who understood, No, but I was the only one who was truly outside of the box for all of those years. Offering a judgement free zone, a shoulder, a hand, I would be there for whatever she needed. I felt safe with her, and she felt safe with me, we could exchange secrets so easily.

  There was oh so much more. So much more than anyone, even her, could ever envisage or foresee. 

  Time went by, and my friend got very sick. In the hospital for months kind of sick. Still, no doctors had answers for what was going on; everything came back negative, yet some of her organs were not functioning correctly, or slowly shutting down. She somehow got better and returned to her home, only to find that her dude was gone, with no word of why. 

  Hospitals, Police stations, Jails, institutions, and morgues. Those are the places we first decided to call. She found no information, no trails left behind… he would be gone for over a weeks worth of time. 

  He came home a drunk. That was new. That was fun. He was hiding his alcohol in every cabinet, every drawer, in old coats hanging in the closets, and old boots in the back, and there was also the ones he would litter all along the side of the road… creating a trail.. a path, of destruction, that would lead straight to her front door. My friend saw this and was scared, so she sent the kids off to their grandparents house to stay a few weeks, while she stood by his side and sobered him up, got him back on his feet, and back to his job. 

  Him having a job working outside , or maybe even just working at all… did not suit him well. Not while he was trying to keep his demons at bay, and what demons were they? What else was he hiding? I had to think that there was something more. He hid his secrets at work, covered up all of his lies under shingles, wood, concrete , tiles & dirt.. hammering, drilling, cutting, shaping and pasting away at his defeat. A 6 pack with the guys, led to counting pennies for a fix, hiding some money and even worse, his most horrible slip. 

  I don’t know when it happened, maybe he knew it all along, but when this boy found Meth, he took off, and he was gone. 

  Again, my friend detoxed him, this time much worse, before he came home, the kids were at Disney with family & friends, she locked herself and her soul mate in their home.. and set off on one of the hardest journeys she would ever know. If your feeling the goosebumps and chills I’m feeling right now, imagine the way she felt watching him come down?  I couldn’t even begin to make any sense of that, even if today I tried.

  When the kids came home, daddy was good, he felt all better, and the holes in his skin were almost healed. My friend had spent a week watching her dude torture himself, hallucinations and bugs, and she sat by his side praying, pleading, holding him, just hoping and wishing he was done. 

But it wasn’t done with him…. and He just wasn’t done…

He’s been gone since the last time he left a long time ago, doing things we could never have imagined, things you would not dare to make up, things I cannot even speak of so publicly.

  Still, today, my friend is picking up the pieces from the tornado he caused, doctors appointments, house hunting, working her ass off, all the while after finding out that he gave her a manageable disease. A disease that a decade ago put a death sentence on every life it touched. My friend has never done hard drugs in her life. Growing up she would drink, smoke weed, and be crazy, but NEVER dared taking drugs that would make her spacey. Nothing hard. 

.  Yes she’s done some crazy ass things, but NEVER as crazy as the things he introduced into her life. It takes 2 to tango they say… yes it’s mostly true, but my friends one mistake was loving someone so hard, believing that they had it in them to be good, when she looked at him, she SAW the good, he just couldn’t pull himself out of his addiction, he did not, does not, and will not ever want to.

 I am so grateful that I am who I am, who I’ve become, and where I am today. I’m grateful that I am present for those who need me. Not only for my kids and family, but for my best friend, who has become more of a sister to me really, and my little nieces and nephews. My friends entire family is my family, and my family is hers, and I cannot explain how much I Love that my friend has her people again, and has the support system she needs. 

 I’ve helped search rivers, camp sites, forests, empty abandoned cars, social media apps, I’ve stared down tree limbs, looking to see if he was there… I’ve driven through the places I’ve been when I was active that I thought I’d never go again. I’ve driven all hours of the day and night looking into places , afraid of finding him. Mostly afraid of finding him in some type of condition … the situations he has put himself in, all lead to him being in some type of bad condition that I’m sure I would not want to see. Though I would do anything to help my friend.  I was so scared that I was going to find him dead. By his own hands. I was so scared for my best friend.

My friend has been through hell and back for the boy she loves, the boy she thought was on his way to being a man, the boy she saw as strong, the boy she created a family with.


We have a triangle, me and my 2 best friends, and it’s our support beams. It’s where we lean when we do not feel strong enough to carry the weights we hold alone. I’ve had lots of best friends and even more friends… and I’ve never had a friendship with 2 other amazing women who have conquered and overcame so much a friendship that is so strong, so real & so true. 

  3’s a crowd.. always a 3rd wheel, double up, they never work… I’ve dealt with it all, but these are my people. No diagnosis, no man or boys, girls or women, no doctor or nurse or medication , could ever break the bond I have/ had with my 2 girls. 

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on
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