My Writing Begins With My Grief, But My Story Doesn’t

Edit 10/17/2017:

In 2014 I opened this blog to help me through the challenges I faced mentally, as I coped with the changes recently after our youngest son was born. We had no idea until he was born, that he would be so sick. A piece of me died that day and many, many more pieces in the days and months that followed. You can read about his diagnosis here. 

Lost, alone, and broken, I feel deeper and deeper into a “pit of Hell.” The darkness took over the light that once was so bright inside of me.

Gone were the dreams I’d once held; the vision of the life I’d worked so hard to build was destroyed. What was I to do now?

I struggled severely with depression, anxiety, guilt, shame and grief that nearly cost me everything.

pexels-photo-217316

Today, equipped with so many more lessons and more knowledge and more wine… I hated to delete what started it all. I didn’t continue the blog past a few posts, but it was the start for me personally that had shaped who I am today.

 

The dreams and passions stored within hearts are powerful keys which can unlock a wealth of potential.  – John C. Maxwell

 

If you are struggling with grief or depression, know that you are not alone. There is joy left in this world for you and you are capable of finding it again. 

Continue reading

I Dream of Brothers

IG Brother Quote
I have struggled so much accepting what my children mean to each other since my youngest son was born.  Kolt’s needs and circumstances most often take the forefront, always causing Kash to have to wait.
I so often feel like so many of Kash’s experiences are stolen by Kolt’s needs. Truth be told, I feel like Kolt’s needs have stolen nearly everything. Dreams, relationships, time, experiences, freedoms….the list goes on, but that’s another story. Being such a young child, it’s understandably difficult for Kash to constantly

Continue reading

How I’m Being Molded Through Grief

 

Now that that official business had been stated, it’s time to be totally transparent. My life is a beautiful mess….well, sometimes.  I like to think of it as organized chaos.

My youngest son was born with CHARGE Syndrome Continue reading

The Kind of Mother He Needed

AirBrush_20170108223724

You gave rise to a love I didnt know existed. Real love. True love. A pure love. A love that has no expectations. A love that sustains, even if it is not reciprocal. A love that is neither biased because of what you have to offer, nor prejudice for what you are incapable of sharing. A love that is absolute. A love that has no regard for cajolery. A love that is unwavering. Continue reading

Confessions Tales From a Grieving Momma : Part 1 – The Mind Confounded A Soul Consumed

734358_10200096275543629_1179858349_n

As someone with a back up plan for every backup plan I already had, I could have never planned or prepared myself for where I have found myself today.

I am surrounded by blessings, seen and unseen, and showered daily with God’s mercy, but yet,

I’m devastated. I am devastated that the plans and dreams aren’t going like I’ve worked so hard for them to go.

I’m angry and drowning in my own guilt. Angry because the selfish human in me refuses to accept that this is my new reality and I am guilt ridden because I am a fixer, but I cannot fix this.

Guilty for so many reasons, for the pain and burden of my own circumstances, and how they are flooding over and into the lives of all of those I love. My problems, my consequences are changing their lives forever as well.

Guilty for bringing this sweet child (intentionally or not, this happened because of something that I was exposed to) into this world who will have to work so hard just to be.

He will have to fight for his life just to achieve and maintain everything that everyone else takes for granted. Yes, everything and everyone.

Guilty at how this will affect his older brother. What will have to give sacrifice? He didn’t ask for this. 

I’m suffocating. Suffocating by the overwhelming feeling/need to manage all the responsibilities perfectly and still maintain my sanity.

I’m consumed. I am consumed with grief. Grief over a life lost, over expectations lost, dreams lost.

Daily, sometimes hourly I am reminded of all the expectations lost.(FUTURE POST) There is just as much out there, in the world, as there is right here in my own home, that constantly reminds me how different my life is from where I always thought it would be. EVERY time that realization occurs, it’s like having air sucked right out of my lungs.

Grief eats away at every little bit of hope for today and faith about tomorrow I manage to gain.

Cheated, misled, lost, alone, scared, imprisoned, I could go on and on with words that describe how I feel. Not all are so piercing to the heart to think about. I can look back and see where God was leading me here. I can see time when he was trying to get me to understand and he was preparing me for this journey. He’s been here the whole time, but sometimes, I’m not so eager to listen.


A young mother's journaling of her experience with grief and depression. In this serial post " Part 1, The Mind Confounded A Soul Consumed," she writes uninhibitedly, and with such ferocity about many of the emotions that must cope with while she manages to process through her grief.

I hope I can find purpose in writing about the ugly truths that can arise from the burdens of my grief. Again, not all my truths are ugly, but those are not the ones I’m afraid to talk about either. I eager to testify about all the moments of mercy and grace that God has shown to me.(FUTURE POST)

Having a child with special needs that make him or her medically fragile, is something I’m sure no one would ever ask for. No one asked me for damn sure. (FUTURE POST) I have to have faith that God is preparing me for a greater purpose…preparing me for something in which I could never have prepared myself?(FUTURE POST)

 

As I continue to search for direction and to share my journey, I hope to be able to express my most raw of feelings.

Sometimes, out of the human mind, so confounded with grief, realizations can be harsh and scary to imagine for even for that of a grieving mind, but yet, still be painfully true. These are my confessions. These are my truths. – Casey Adams