Serenity: From Fear to Grace

There is a mountain just beyond the patio door of my bedroom.

Every morning, before the rest of the world begins asking something of me, I quietly reach to light my 3-wick mahogany fragrance candle and wait patiently for the sun to rise.

At first, the mountain is almost invisible. Just a dark silhouette against the early morning sky. Then, almost imperceptibly, a thin ribbon of light begins tracing its edges. The darkness slowly gives way to shades of lavender, deep blue, and soft gold until, before I even realize it's happening, the mountain lights up.

I've come to call that moment "Lights Up."

It has become one of the most sacred parts of my day.

Not because the mountain changes. Because I do.

There was a time when mornings looked very different.

For years, I dreaded nighttime because I already knew what was waiting for me.

Sleep wouldn't come.

If it did, it never stayed for long.

Instead, my mind became a movie theater playing the same painful scenes over and over again.

Dreams that had quietly slipped away.

Mistakes I couldn't seem to forgive.

Questions that never seemed to have answers.

What could I have done differently?

Why wasn't I enough?

Would I ever feel like myself again? Night after night, those thoughts circled through my mind until I finally believed they were telling me the truth.

I wasn't simply tired.

I was exhausted from carrying the weight of my own thoughts.

I tried everything I knew.

Prescription sleep aids.

Over-the-counter remedies.

Meditation.

Books.

Hot baths.

Hypnosis.

Vodka.

I probably listened to enough Wayne Dyer podcasts to earn an honorary degree in positive thinking. I kept hoping that if I could just fill my mind with enough good thoughts, I could finally quiet the bad ones.

Sometimes it helped.

Sometimes it didn't.

Looking back now, I don't think insomnia was ever my greatest problem.

I think grief was.

Not just grief over the end of my marriage.

Grief over dreams that didn't unfold the way I imagined.

Grief over losing pieces of the life I thought I would always have.

Grief has a way of asking to be heard. When we don't make space for it during the day, it often introduces itself in the middle of the night.

For a long time, I tried to outrun it.

Sometimes I stayed busy.

Sometimes I distracted myself.

Sometimes I tried to numb it.

None of those things ever brought me serenity.

They only postponed the conversation my heart desperately needed to have.

Healing didn't begin because life suddenly became easier.

It began when I slowly stopped running.

A wonderful counselor helped me begin untangling years of hurt.

EMDR helped me process memories that had quietly held me captive.

Long conversations with Kevin reminded me I wasn't walking through life alone.

Music gave words to emotions I couldn't yet describe.

Travel opened my eyes to beauty I had forgotten how to notice.

And my faith became quieter, deeper, and far less concerned with having all the answers.

Through it all...there was that mountain.

Every morning.

Waiting.

Unchanged.

Patient.

Reminding me that light doesn't rush.

It arrives exactly when it's supposed to. Staring out that patio door has taught me something I don't want to forget.

Serenity isn't the absence of pain.

It isn't a life without disappointment, loss, or unanswered questions.

Serenity begins to grow when we stop fighting every feeling that asks to be acknowledged.

The mountain has never spoken a single word to me.

It hasn't needed to.

Its quiet rhythm has reminded me that healing doesn't usually happen all at once.

It comes the same way dawn comes.

Slowly.

Softly.

Almost unnoticed.

Until one morning you realize...

your life has begun to light up again.

Tomorrow morning, before the demands of the day find you, step outside if you can.

Notice the sky.

Listen to the birds.

Feel the morning air.

Don't go looking for answers.

Simply notice what has been there all along.

Sometimes serenity doesn't arrive because life changes.

Sometimes it arrives because we finally become still enough to hear the quiet voice that has been patiently waiting for us all along.


From my open diary to yours...if something here speaks to your own journey, you're always welcome to share.

Hope After Midnight

I started having severe insomnia and disturbing dreams during my divorce several years ago. It was also around the same time I started drinking... heavily.

It began innocently enough. An old friend from high school came back into my life. We connected on so many levels. He had bipolar disorder, was going through a divorce of his own, and understood much of what I was feeling. Looking back, we were a recipe for disaster.

The nights were the hardest.

I'd wake up in the middle of the night and spend hours replaying the past or worrying about what lay ahead. My mind refused to rest. Every mistake, every regret, every uncertainty seemed to demand my attention in the quiet hours.

At first, I tried to drown out the noise by listening to Wayne Dyer and other inspirational teachers. Their words gave me moments of peace, but eventually the thoughts would come rushing back.

Then I found something that worked even faster.

I started drinking in the middle of the night.

At first, it was the relief I craved. Then it became the buzz. More than anything, alcohol numbed the pain. Living in my own skin, with all the sadness from my past and the fear of what my future might hold--felt overwhelming.

Drinking became my escape.

Two years later, I met Kevin. For the first time in a long time, I could afford to return to therapy. We eventually married after ten years together, and just three weeks after our wedding, my son told me we were shutting down the dealership.

Ironically, after decades of carrying the constant weight of owning businesses, I suddenly found myself without that burden. Since I was twenty-three years old, I'd always been responsible for solving the next problem. When that responsibility disappeared, I was left alone with something I had spent years trying to avoid.

My own thoughts.

I've often joked that I was born with busy-mind syndrome. Imagine a room full of gymnasts, twisting, flipping, spinning, stumbling, and never stopping. That's what my mind felt like most days.

Over time, I realized something uncomfortable.

Many of the greatest struggles in my life didn't begin with my circumstances. They began with my thinking.

Our thoughts shape our choices.

Our choices shape our lives.

When I finally took an honest inventory of my life, I wasn't always proud of what I found. There were moments that filled me with regret. But there were also relationships I had repaired, lessons I had learned, and evidence that I had grown. Those discoveries mattered just as much.

Life's lessons never really end. The question is whether we're willing to see ourselves honestly enough to learn from them.

Serenity didn't arrive all at once.

It came slowly.

Piece by piece.

It came through accepting my past instead of trying to outrun it. Through extending grace to the younger version of myself who was simply doing the best she knew how to do. Through realizing that peace isn't the absence of painful memories...it's learning they no longer have to control you.

Aristotle once said,

Hope is a waking dream.

I believe peace begins the moment we stop trying to escape ourselves and start becoming friends with the person we've been all along.


From my open diary to yours...if something here speaks to your own journey, you're always welcome to share.

My Open Diary

It has often been said that before someone can overcome addiction, they have to hit rock bottom.

Maybe that's true.

I certainly did.

Rock bottom isn't just where everything falls apart. It's the place where you finally stop pretending. It's where the excuses lose their power, the masks come off, and you're left with a single question:

"What kind of life do I want from here?"

Recovery doesn't begin because the pain disappears. It begins when the desire for peace becomes greater than the desire to escape.

If you've found yourself at rock bottom, I want you to know something.. it doesn't have to be the end of your story. It can become the foundation for a new one. Healing is possible, but it rarely happens all at once. It happens one honest decision, one courageous conversation, one difficult day, and one small step at a time.

I've also learned that grief isn't something you ever truly finish. It simply changes shape over time. What once felt impossible to carry gradually becomes part of who you are. The weight doesn't always disappear, but somehow you grow stronger beneath it.

Today, much of my pain has softened. I live with more peace, greater awareness, and deeper contentment than I ever imagined possible. For that, I am profoundly grateful.

Gratitude has become one of the surest paths to peace that I've ever known.

I'm deeply thankful for my husband, who loved and supported me while I found my way back to myself. His patience and steadfastness gave me the space to heal when I often couldn't see the way forward.

But this isn't a story with a perfect ending.

I still carry regrets.

I still wrestle with parenting guilt.

There are decisions I wish I could make differently.

Those feelings may always be part of me, but they no longer define me.

Instead, I'm learning to hold my regrets with compassion instead of shame, to accept life exactly as it is instead of wishing it had been different, and to trust that growth is still possible no matter my age.

It's an open diary of an imperfect woman learning that beauty and brokenness often grow side by side.

That's really what Wildflowers and Weeds has always been about.

And if I've learned anything over these last eighteen years, it's this:

Life will always have its weeds.

But with enough grace, patience and hope...

wildflowers bloom there too.


From my Open Diary.
Wildflowers and Weeds.
Enjoy the Journey.

Signs From Heaven

Some moments feel ordinary while they are happening, only later revealing how sacred they truly were. I thought my baptism would simply be an outward expression of my faith. I did not expect it to be another sign from my mother.

My baptism was not an impulsive decision. It was something my heart had been moving toward for nearly two years.

My faith and beliefs are deeply personal, and the path that led me here has been anything but straightforward. It has been tumultuous at times, peculiar at others, but through it all I have finally found peace. Simply put, I have found peace in Jesus.

I have found peace in His resurrection and in the deep certainty that there is life beyond this one.

I do not consider myself religious in the traditional sense. I do not believe a relationship with God is confined to one church, denomination, or prescribed path. I struggle with dogma, self-righteousness, and the idea that any one person holds all the answers.

What I do believe is that every individual can develop a relationship with the divine if they sincerely seek it. And I believe THAT relationship can and will transform a life.

For nearly two years I wrestled with whether I should be baptized in Utah or Phoenix, simply because of all the religious tension that has been in our extended family for over 30 years. I worried about how it might affect my children, daughters-in-law, and grandsons. In the end, Phoenix felt peaceful and uncomplicated, simply an experience I wanted to keep between myself and the inward relationship I had gained with Christ.

The morning of my baptism felt like any other rushed Sunday morning. At the last minute, I asked my husband to grab my mother’s Bible from the nightstand and put it in my backpack.

I have several of my mother’s Bibles. For some reason, I wanted one with me during this trip to Phoenix while helping care for my husband's 94-year-old mother. I chose a small mahogany Bible with gold-embossed leaves on the cover. I had never read this particular Bible, but without question my mother had read it cover to cover, just as she did all of her Bibles.

My mother had a relationship with scripture that I deeply admired. The Bible grounded her. It guided her decisions and seemed to make her softer, humbler, and more peaceful with each passing year.

Because the Bible had become so important to her, the one thing I wanted after she died was the Bible she had been reading. One day, she opened it and wrote my name on the bookmark.

On January 31, 2024, my mother was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. She calmly decided against treatment and passed away on April 3, only a little over two months later.

The final months we shared became priceless. We talked for hours and came to know each other more deeply. We tried to be honest about almost everything, though some painful truths remained untouched because certain wounds felt too deep and too late to fully reopen.

The final days of my mother’s life felt surreal, as though the veil between heaven and earth had grown thin. Days before she died, she called out for her sister Barbara, who had passed years earlier. As Mom drifted in and out of consciousness, I read Psalms aloud to her from her Bible. I opened to Psalm 100 and, after reading it, tucked the Bible beneath her arm where it remained until she passed away.

Later, when designing her headstone, a line from Psalm 100 felt perfect:

“His steadfast love endures forever.”

I believe that is the message my mother would want us to remember.

Before she died, I asked her several times to send me a sign from heaven if she could. I never remember her answering me directly, but I knew she heard me.

Because the Bible had become so important to her, the one thing I wanted after she died was the Bible she died with under her arm and I read Psalms 100. Before she died, she opened it and wrote my name on the bookmark that had all the books of the Old and New Testament on it. I used that bookmark for months and then lost it. I have been so sick about losing it and hoping one day I would find it.

The third sign came the day of my baptism.

That morning, Kevin grabbed Mom’s Bible and tossed it into my backpack before we left for church. Somehow we mixed up the baptism time and arrived thirty minutes early. Sitting quietly in the back seat, I pulled out Mom’s Bible to read and settle my mind before the service.

When I opened it, I saw the same type of bookmark she had written my name on years earlier.

And it was resting at Psalm 100.

I wept.

That bookmark resting at Psalm 100 felt like another whisper from my mother reminding me:

His Steadfast Love Endures Forever.

Stepping Into the Light

When my mom was dying of pancreatic cancer in 2024, I asked her—if she could—to please send me a sign from heaven. I needed to know that her soul lived on. As a Christian, I’ve always believed in an afterlife, but watching my precious mother—my best friend—fade so quickly brought me such tenderness for her and deep anguish in my soul. It happened during an already difficult season of my life as my son and I were losing our dealership, the grief of everything felt almost too heavy to bare.

Three months after my mother passed, I received the sign I had been quietly longing for. My husband was out of town, and I’d spent several days alone. That night, as I walked into my bedroom to go to bed, something caught my eye—gently resting beside my nightstand was a photo I had searched for endlessly. It was of my mom, my sister, and me. A photo I hadn’t seen in months. I dropped to my knees, overcome with gratitude. I knew—it was her or God who had placed it there.

Today is my birthday. As I was starting a load of laundry, something unexpected happened again. At the bottom of the basket—one I’ve emptied countless times over the years—lay an earring I had been praying to find for over a year. But not just any earring. These were the earrings my mom wore to my wedding. My husband’s shirts and a few towels had just come out of that same basket, but there it was. My mom, sending her love in the most personal way—on my birthday, no less.

In my previous two blogs, I shared that I’ve been on a deep and painful journey to uncover the darkness I’ve carried for as long as I can remember. I had asked my brother, to be my guardian angel—to help me face what needed to be faced. Slowly, painfully, memories have returned. Some I already knew. Others came in like a flood. I’ve felt my mother and brother with me as I shuffled through this unfolding and understanding of the darkness I have carried, and how it carved me into the person I am.

This birthday gift—this small, shimmering sign—was her way of saying, “I’m here. I see you. I love you.” And maybe… that I’m not alone as I step into the light.

Only If the Lights Are On

In my July 2 blog post, “A Talk With My Brother,” I asked him—my brother—to be my Guardian Angel. I believe in angels. And I truly believe that when I asked for his help to lift the darkness I’d been carrying, he answered. Not only did he help… he guided me to the very source of this darkness.

Now, for the first time, I’m beginning to process memories I’ve spent a lifetime trying to reach—but never could. I had read about repressed memory here and there, but I never thought it applied to me. When I tried to look back on my childhood, all I ever found was black. Very few images or emotions—just a lot of black walls behind my eyelids.

When I sat quietly with myself, I’d sense something. A cobweb in my brain. An ache in my heart but I couldn’t explain it. Here is my feeble attempt to try to explain...

Did you know that when you look at white—like the background of this screen—you’re seeing all the colors at once? White is what happens when every color shows up to the party. Black, on the other hand, is the absence of color. A complete void.

Lately, it feels like light has finally begun shining into the darker corners of my past. And suddenly—click—so many things about who I am, and why, are starting to make sense.

Here’s the thing: our experiences shape us. They don’t have to define us, but they do sculpt us. Thankfully, we’re wonderfully moldable—at any age.

Take Grandma Moses. She didn’t start painting until her 70s, and by her 80s and 90s, she was a world-renowned folk artist.

She once said, “Life is what we make it, always has been, always will be.”

That quote speaks to me now more than ever. Sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do is step outside ourselves and see our lives from another angle—not from inside our heads or our pain, but through the eyes of others around us. What might they see? How might they be affected? That kind of perspective shifts everything.

As Wayne Dyer said,

“When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.”

Now that I’ve looked back—really looked—I no longer have to carry it all with me. I can lay it down at the cross. The weight has lifted. The light has entered. And I’m beginning to live with a little more understanding, a little more compassion… especially for myself. The light is on now. And I’m no longer afraid of the dark from the past.

I’m sure there are still some cobwebs in there that i will have to deal with, but if the lights on, I’m not afraid.

A Talk With My Brother

"If I were able to have a talk with you today Dave, this is what I would say..."

My journal got an earful today during this visit with you as I poured out everything—an emotional dump like I’ve never shared with anyone before. But I figured, you probably already know, so why not just say it all? Have a real, raw, no-holds-barred conversation with you. I knew you’d understand. We were raised in the same home, share the same blood—and most importantly, I’ve asked you to be my Guardian Angel for something that’s not just big... it’s monumental.

It’s something from my past. A part of me that turns itself inside out and slips into darkness from time to time and I want to be done with it.

I’m trying—really trying—to squeeze that darkness out and replace it with light.

I’m not claiming I’ll stop being bipolar. What I’m talking about goes deeper than a diagnosis. It’s a feeling I’ve carried as long as I can remember—one of being dark, dirty, and scared. But little by little, I’m beginning to let it go. As I understand it more, its grip on me weakens. Healing isn’t quick, but it’s happening.

And that’s what I’m asking from you today, Dave—help me walk through it. Help me through the process.

The reminiscing today has been glorious. I wrote down a bunch of memories—maybe someday your kids will read them. Like the time we went water skiing in the canal, using the motorcycle as a boat. Or when Dad beat the hell out of you for streaking. Yep, those were the streaking days—and even though you were harmless, nobody saw it that way! You “streaked” in a jock strap, in our own yard, over the calf pens with one of the Milkers. None of that mattered to Dad. I tattled on you the next day, and I’ve regretted it ever since. You paid dearly for that shenanigan, and I’m sorry I sold you out.

Remember hide-and-seek on the motorcycles, using every nook and cranny the farm had to offer? Or playing Monopoly in the camper on rainy days—even if the camper was in the driveway? I don’t have a childhood without you, my dear brother.

Eventually, all of us kids got married and started having kids of our own. We’d gather at Mom and Dad’s every Sunday for roast and brownies. All of our kids, now the troublemakers, would make there way to the hay barn to make forts and play with matches. (That hay barn did eventually burn to the ground, lit by one of the kids, luckily not yours or mine.)

As families, with Mom & Dad always there, we went to parades, water parks, and fireworks. We had picnics, went sledding, golfing, and you even talked some of us into going fishing.

But enough reminiscing.

Dave, your death was a turning point in our family’s life. There was life before you died, and life after. I don’t know what life would’ve been like had you lived, but I know one thing for sure: I sure would’ve liked to find out. But I won’t complain our family has been blessed beyond measure.

Thanks for your help along the way, I've felt you hangin' around a time or two. You've sure been gone a long time.

Who Are You To Judge Your Neighbor?

I was raised in the Mormon church, a faith rooted in a strong hierarchial structure and strict rules. While it offers a clear framework for living, it can also foster a deep sense of guilt that's hard to shake. That guilt often becomes a measuring stick--first against ourselves, and then against others--as we constantly evaluate how well we're keeping the commandments. The result is a cycle of self-judgment that quietly spills over into judgement of others.

My husband and I attend a non-denominational Christian church, and are part of a Bible study group. Last night, I felt complelled to share something with our group that was on my heart--that Christians can be just as quick to judge others as followers of any other faith. As if we have the moral high ground. I lived that life as a Mormon, and I'm not going to do it again.

We all do it. It's woven into the fabric of being human--imperfect, instinctive, and often unnoticed. The deeper question is whether we have the awareness to recognize it, and the willingness to pause, reflect, and gently redirect ourselves.

My religious journey throughout my life has been tumultuous, confusing and brought me a lot of sadness.

My mom left the Mormon church when she was fifty years old in 1992. My father could never accept it and was counseled by authorities of the Mormon church to divorce her in order to save the rest of the family from leaving the Mormon faith. In the aftermath, all but one left the church in spite of the counsel my father was given.

My family was stuck in a holy war until my dad died 22 years later. The fighting was endless and everone felt the undercurrent of religious tension and pressure, most of us stopped going to any kind of organized religious service for years.

As for me, I stayed in a state of inner turmoil as soon as the family holy war started. I was outwardly solid to my Mormon upbringing for another 16 years. I felt uncertainty about the foundation of which Mormonism was built upon a lot in my life, which I always kept to myself.

As I sat down to create "Mandalas of Many Voices", a coloring/quote book that is now on Amazon; I had no idea I was about to embark on one of the most spiritually moving experiences of my life.

What began as a simple idea--to pair the meditative calm of mandalas with timeless words of wisdom and quotes--quickly unfolded into something much deeper. With each quote I selected, from religious leaders as ancient as 990 BC to modern spiritual thinkers, I found myself drawn into a quiet, sacred space. I felt as though I was being guided--not just by divine presence, but by the gentle whisper of my mother, whose spirit I felt sitting beside me as I worked.

There were moments when the world faded away and I was overcome with peace, clarity, and connection. In those still, creative hours, I felt God's presence--not as a strict ruler or distant force, but as a quiet companion who embraced the full spectrum of human belief and experience. I was reminded again and again that wisdom isn't bound by doctrine, and that truth speaks many languages. The quotes I chose--some grounded in faith, others in broader spiritual reflection--each carried a light of their own. And togeher, they became a mosaic of compassion, understanding, and unity.

The quote I chose to represent my own voice in the book says it best:

It is beautiful and natural for each person to follow their own path, whether rooted in religion or spirituality, for our journeys are as unique as we are. What is not acceptable is clinging to dogma or the belief that there is only one right way to live. Each person's journey is their own to find their truth.

Since the 90's, I've dreamed of writing my own book. But life has had a way of pulling me in different directions, and for years, that dream sat quietly in the background. When the dealership closed, that I had been working at with my son for 8 years, I found myself aimless--without direction, without purpose.

Then came this unexpected opportunity to write and publish my own work. I've been able to rediscover parts of myself that I thought were lost. The process has been more than just fulfilling--it's been healing. In many ways, it saved me. It gave me purpose. It got me sober.

I had been mostly sober since 2018 but after losing the dealership, and my mom's passing, I turned to alcohol to numb the pain. I started coloring in mandals books about 3 years ago and found them very calming. I always like finishing a page to see how it will come out. I'm not good at meditation so this has become a way for me to relax. I enjoy turning on some calming, spiritual music and just coloring for an hour before bed. I never dreamed I'd produce my own book. The mandala book was really motivated by a desire for tolerance, acceptance, and a genuine curiousity about each other's beliefs. Each author whose quote is included has some way, helped shape the world's understanding of faith, purpose and humanity.

And while you have your own belief system--just as I do--we've each come to those beliefs in our own way, in our own time. That's part of the beauty of being human. But sometimes, the conviction that we are right can quietly imply that others are wrong. That belief, even when well meaning, can create distance. And that distance? It's been at the root of conflict and division since the beginning of time.

But I don't believe our Maker intended for us to live divided. I believe we were created to love one another--fully, unconditionally--and to walk through this life with open hearts, gentle understanding, and a committment to being kind, honest examples. Not just when it's easy. But always.

My parents have both passed now but the fall out of religious tension has taken its toll on my family, and most want little to do with religion at all.

The experiences of compiling this mandala book opened my heart to the richness of other religions and belief systems. As I explored each one, I gained a deep respect and genuine love for the diverse ways people seek meaining and connection. I began to see how every tradition has shaped cultures, influenced ways of thinking, and left its mark on the world in powerful, beautiful ways.

As for me, this journey gently led my heart back to Jesus Christ as Savior of the world. The more I explored, the more I saw how everything--every longing, every truth, every expression of love and hope--ultimately points to Him. That is just what made sense and spoke to me.

These mandalas were hand drawn by an artist in Ukraine. They represent: Kindness. Compassion. And Divine. There are a total of 45 mandalas in the book.

Mom's Last Breath

My mom died a year ago this month. Her lamp, which now sits in my living room, still gives off light day and night. She is missed daily -- not just by me, but by many.

I can finally write about her. I still cry. My throat still chokes up. I miss her so much. Have you lost a parent or close loved one? It's gut wrenching, isn't it?

Now, I am firm in my belief in an afterlife. I've read the book "Imagine Heaven" by John Burke three times. It hasn't made me anxious to die, but it has made me look forward to what lies beyond this earth after we take our last breath.

My mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer at the end of January last year and died in April. She was 81 years old. She had no interest in treating it--she went into palliative care quickly, and we kept her comfortable and out of pain as much as possible.

I got married three months prior to her diagnosis. There was an embrace we shared after the ceremony when we looked into each other's eyes; we had tears, which was unusual for my mom. I knew her tears were tears of joy--that I had finally married Kevin after 10 years. My tears were of joy as well, but I also had a premonition that she would be gone from us within a year.

She moved in with my sister just three weeks before receiving the news about the lump in her pancreas. That timing was such a blessing, as my sister lovingly cared for her and they were able to spend precious time together. I was also fortunte as I was not working and I got to spend long afternoons talking, laughing and hugging her.

The week after her death, I felt strong mentally and emotionally. Physically, I had lost 40 pounds from other stresses, and my health had taken a beating. Two weeks later, the reality of her absence really hit me -- and I had never felt that kind of pain in my life. It was close to the pain I felt when my brother died, due to the terrible circumstances surrounding his death, but this was a different kind of pain: an emptiness, a loneliness, that knocked me directly to my knees begging God to help me through another day.

My mom was my rock--the person I turned to for everything. She knew every little dirty secret about me, and she told me plenty of hers as well. We connected. It's strange how we lived such parallel lives.

The grief my sister and I felt was so overwhelming that we took a sabbatical from one another to heal in our own ways. I was dealing with too many issues on top of my mom's death, and so was she. Our sabbatical took away the other closest person I could talk to about my mom, which was her. Both of us usually just sobbed when we spoke of her. I don't know why we are so deeply connected to our mother; she was just the best listener one could ever want.

I'm sad to admit this, but as addiction will always be a challenge for me, I statred drinking again. It numbed the pain. And for five months, I kept myself slightly--sometimes dangerously--drunk. I've never wanted to die of an accidental overdose. I shudder to think how many times I've come close.

Addiction is a curse. It's Satan's way of controlling my life--because everything in my life slowly deteriorates. My will, my self-esteem, my relationships and my health.

I got sober because I found purpose again and started doing something I love and was born to do: write. I am now writing and publishing my own books.

If you're grieving from a loss and struggling with addiction, be kind to yourself. Keep busy. Find purpose in life. Stay connected to friends and loved ones. Talk to a counselor. Go to support groups. Eat good food. Walk.

I watched my mom take her last breath. My sister and I held her hand for the final 15 minutes as she labored to breathe.

My heart ached to see her go--but I rejoiced for her, because she was finally being released from all her cares and sorrows, of which she had many in her lifetime.

The heavens opened up for her and celebrated her as the queen she was. And she finally got to meet the King of Kings, which she had prepared for and talked so frequently of. I know of no one that was more ready and humble than her.

Dedicated to Shirley Louise King November 2, 1942 - April 3, 2024

IT'S ABOUT TIME

After ten years, I finally married the love of my life in October 2023. Life has been an adventure—filled with challenges that have made writing difficult—until now. Our wedding was beautiful, and I wouldn’t change a thing. The ceremony was intimate, shared only with our dear mothers, sisters, brother-in-law, children, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews.

This picture is especially dear to me because, just a few short months later, my mom passed away from pancreatic cancer. That night, after the ceremony, we shared a special hug. She had been experiencing pain on her right side and had been seeing the doctor. In that moment, as we embraced, a thought hit me—I wouldn’t have her much longer. We locked eyes after that hug. Tears welled up in hers, which was rare for my mom, and I shed one of my own. No words were spoken, but I think we both knew the truth. And I also knew she was happy that I was finally married.

Since my oldest grandson was eight months old, I’ve made it a tradition to have Friday night dates with him. As three more grandsons have joined the family, I’ve tried to keep that tradition alive. This past year—between getting married and everything else that has happened—it has been harder, but we’re finally getting back on track. These rascals bring me more joy than I could ever put into words. We’ve had our own parades, squirt gun fights, game nights, and countless trips to Wendy’s. These moments will be etched in my heart forever, even if they fade from their young minds. One of our favorite traditions at the end of our visits has been dancing to Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars. So, it felt only fitting that my grandsons introduced me as the bride with festive dancing, while Collin followed up the rear holding a sign that read: IT’S ABOUT TIME.

I have been blessed immensely with 3 boys that I absolutely adore and make me proud to be a mom. They have stood by me through some really tough times since 2011 when my life started to unravel. I think they all sighed a bit of releif when we finally got married, as they knew that I was happy and I had someone to grow old with.

As for me and my partner in crime...we have our moments. We are passionate people. We live life big. We love hard. We fight fiercely. We work too much. We play too little. We love to learn. And we work on getting better as individuals and as a couple, every single day of our lives.

Happily Ever After

Holidays can be hard for so many people. I've had my share of down in the dumps Christmases where i didn't want to get out of bed. Four years ago i had no job, T.J. had fired me (temporarily), flat broke, no driver's license and no Kevin.

I watch the Hallmark Christmas shows and wonder, how many places look so perfect with ribbon and lights and bows? How many people are young and fit, rich, down on their luck, only to have everything in the end fall in to place? Hallmark can make a great story line of love being resisted, only to end up professing love in the end, and everyone lives happily ever after...

Well, maybe, just maybe if you believe, really project to the universe that you are and can be happy, and never, ever quit trying, it can and will happen.

Last year at this time i was approved for TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation) treatments for bipolar depression. I was fortunate enough to have sought out an insurance company that would cover my treatments at the tune of about $25,000.00, my out of pocket was about $1,500.00.

I had 34, 3 minute treatments in the Spring and truly i feel my brain chemistry has changed. I have submitted to my insurance to have some follow up treatments simply because i have had some tough days; but nothing like the past 30 years.

My depression has been since as young as grade school where i would tell my mom i was sick and she would let me stay home from school. Fighting the black dog became a constant by the time i was in my thirties. 

My brother passed away in a tragic car accident when i was 30. My parents had divorced only a short time prior to my brother's death. our family had forever changed. These circumstances in my family really took a toll on me.

I am sure my brother had bipolar depression as well. But at that time we were so ignorant of the illness. I was not diagnosed with bipolar depression until i was 40. Then came the challenge of finding medications that helped. When i got a new doctor or therapist, they would ask what meds i have tried. I replied, "let's start with what meds i have NOT tried."

I have a library of books on mental illness, addiction and self-help. Positive thinking, really controlling your thoughts go a long way in preventing the blues. Not dwelling on the past or worrying about the future is such a key in staying happily present in your life. Living in the now is a discipline, and one that goes a long way in mental health. And sometimes i just wake up and my brain is foggy, my body feels heavy, my thoughts easily turn to the negative and i am right back there entertaining the black dog in my body and mind. Maybe you can relate? Some people can't and never will.

I have spent many days in bed in my life trying to shut out the pain, only to be alone with my thoughts that perpetuated the sadness. Working with TJ my son has been a godsend because he is so adamant that i get up every day and go to work. Getting my mind from spinning out of control has taught me that lying in bed worsens my mood. So, i now push through it and life truly is better.

There are so many more treatments for mental health now than ever. Ketamine treatments are also proving to be a great influence for happiness in the brain.

I will be 60 years old next year. I have worked six days a week for the last nearly eight years. I just took a 2 week cruise in the South America sun with the love of my life, Kevin, my oldest son TJ and his family. Never have i taken a 2 week vacation in my life and it gave me some time to think and really decompress from the worries and stresses that have accumulated in my body for years. I exercised, listened to some powerful books and thoroughly enjoyed being present with 2 of my 4 grandsons.

 I haven't been around young children for that amount of time since i was a young mother. When i was a young mother i had heavy responsibilities that would take my mind out of the present. Now, with grandchildren, and my life settled with love and financial prosperity it is much easier to live each moment being present. 

I saw each one of my grandsons yesterday. All were happy and content and surrounded by love. My boys are wonderful fathers. Their wives incredible mothers.

If this holiday you feel alone know that life can change, and it can change for the better. Most of it is allowing life to be as it is and accept what is. So much resistance to life will never amount to anything good. So often in this country, because of what social media and pressure to keep up with the Joneses puts upon us can keep us down. Control your thoughts, your thoughts are what make your life. You are what you think, and taking inventory of those thoughts will put you in the right direction.

Bad brain chemistry is real, but you can fight it, or accept it as it is and decide to help yourself in any way possible. Search out new treatments, search out new medications that may help you. Talk to a counselor or trusted friend. Eat better, sleep better, move your body more. All of these things DO make a difference. They may not "cure" you, but they go a long way in keeping you out of bed and out of self pity. Life can be good, even when it's not. Just go travel to third world country where poverty prevails. You will see a lot of sadness, but you will also see a lot of happiness. Generally speaking, you will always find what you are looking for. One thing for sure, if you see yourself as a victim, you will never be happy. You may have been victimized in your life, you do not have to be a victim.

It is Christmas day. If you are alone, if you are sad, i urge you to get out a journal and write down everything you are grateful for. Write down what you want your life to look like, and be realistic, and then start living as if that life is real...before you know it, it will be! We can live happily ever after, try it!

In Acapulco with Bode (always screwing off for pictures) and our little wild Cobee

Treatment and Hope for Depression

 The results are in!..or at least i hope they are.

Two months ago i began an all out effort to treat my dark depressive episodes. I had begun TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation), EMDR (eye movement desensitization reprocessing) and an 8 week meditation course.

Shortly after i started this i really started feeling better. Call it placebo, or whatever, but the fact is i did feel and believe good things were to come of my efforts.

I finished TMS this week after having 34 treatments. I did get used to the procedure and was able to finish with the goal of 72 as the most effective measurement. I started at 51. I used music to distract me from the discomfort of the treatment, and 3 minutes would go by rather fast.

I was given a survey on a regular basis to monitor and measurme my mood, my sleeping and my eating habits. I started out pretty low and finished with stellar results. I do feel different, i just do not know how to explain it.

There is a differnce between chemical and situational depression. Situational depression will improve as circumstances in life improve. Chemical depression comes on, triggered by what?..sometimes nothing. I could feel the difference. Chemical depression shattered all hope and enjoyment out of life for no particular reason.

I'm not sure what the future brings but i am now hopeful that the crushing depressive episodes from my past are gone. Time will tell.

EMDR has been (still having sessions), interesting. My first session was emotionally draining. Subsequent sessions have been ok. The goal is to reprocess traumatic events from the past and let them go. I can honestly say that i do not live in the past any longer. When i think of my past i have good and bad memories. I'm sure everyone is that way. The painful things in my past are just part of my story and i can let it be in the past. For the most part i do not harbor bad feelings towards many...there are still a couple. I am working on that.

Meditation is absolutely AWESOME! I look forward to getting in bed every night and just, well just having a present awareness of my body, my breathing and my thoughts. Meditation is not about not thinking because thoughts just naturally come and go, but it's different when you are in a meditative state. You let the thought go and then revert your thought back to a present awareness of your body. I do a 33 minute body scan. Sometimes i fall asleep. My goal each night is to relax and be in a grateful state of mind for my life.

The final thing that i have added to my life is nightly devotionals with my love, Kevin. We read from 4 books each night. Jesus Calling, Jesus Listens, Stillness Speaks and the Bible. This gives us time to connect with each other and connect with our Higher Power, God.

I'm happy. I'm hopeful and in the best place i have ever been with my business and with my relationships with my loved ones and with myself.

A New Journey

I have fallen into a dark depression..ya, i know the drill, eat right, exercise, take my meds, meditate, do something i enjoy, self-care........problem is, when you're depressed you enjoy nothing. I am trying, really i am but this shit is no fun. No one chooses to be depressed. Life happens, and life happens when you're trying to make a better life. 

 I am doing 3 things to battle this disease i have. 

I am having TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation). It is a non-invasive treatment that uses electromagnetic pulses to stimulate nerve cells, which may improve symptoms of neurological or mental health disorders. It mainly treats depression. There’s also some evidence that TMS may help other disorders, like anxiety, OCD, PTSD, chronic pain, Alzheimer's and Parkinson’s disease.

I've had one treatment, and to describe it would be this: have you ever been electrocuted when you were plugging something into a light socket? It feels like that with only five times the power. It just zaps your brain. I will have 30 treatment, 5 times a week for 6 weeks. The goal is to get the strength to 72. I got to 62 on my first treatment. The treatment only lasts 3 minutes. I will have 30, so i figure, if this helps me to not feel this way for any time in my future it is worth a shot. 

It's only 90 minutes of getting my brain zapped! The success rate of TMS for depression is promising. Response rates for depression are between 30 and 64 percent. More research is needed to understand the success rate for other medical conditions. 

The second thing i will be doing is EMDR (eye movement desensitization reprocessing) with my therapist. This can be done by tapping and moving your eyes right to left. My therapist has 2 little balls that i hold in each hand and it blinks and buzzes back and forth.

The American Psychiatric Association (APA) has noted that EMDR is effective for treating symptoms of acute and chronic PTSD, panic attacks, sleep disorders and addiction. According to the APA, EMDR may be particularly useful for people who have trouble talking about the traumatic events they've experienced. 

I've had one session. It was emotionally exhausting. I'm going continue for a while and see what comes of it. There are no side effects. Bonus. 

The third thing i have signed up for is an eight week meditation course. Now this speaks to me the most. Thought discipline. The only negative thing about meditation is when you think you're no good at it, which is a myth. It's about awareness. Being aware of the space between your thoughts, but it's not about trying not to think, it's about recognizing those thoughts. It's very strange and very cool. I like it.

So, it's a lot, but when i do something i like to do it big, and i like to do it well. 

Wish me luck and stay tuned...

Dogs

                                      Why does watching a dog be a dog fill one with happiness

-Jonathan Safran Foer

I had a dog, one of those dogs that will never be replaced. Maybe you've had one of those too? This is a three part post to share some of my journey through depression, mania, addiction and a long journey where i have found peace with living in the present. My special Zion would have been 18 today.

Over the past 18 years i have loved 7 dogs...none like i loved Zion.

Zion was a Boston Terrier runt. Full grown 11 lbs. She is named after Zion's canyon in St. George, Utah. It was there that i decided i needed a dog. I brought her home the day before Thanksgiving in 2003. I was 43 years old and about to experience the longest bout of depression i had ever experienced in my life. I felt the depression coming on so i fled to Zion's canyon hoping to get a reprieve from the pressures of running a salon and day spa and raising a family. I also knew my brain chemistry was off. When i returned, the deep darkness sank in and i spent the better time of the next several months, until June of that year in bed. During that time it was a triumph if i did a little housework, showered and brushed my teeth. I don't recall if the preceding months had been filled with mania, but as the pattern was, what goes up, must come down. That's how the chemistry in the brain works if you have bipolar depression.

When Zion was a puppy she was so little she fit in the palm of my hand. When she ate her little back feet would come off the ground because her head was big compared to her body. All those months she would, lay beside me, just loving me unconditionally. I would play with her frequently, and she became very proficient in playing catch.. I would rival any Golden Retriever or Labrador that Zion loves balls more than any good fetching dog. She learned how to play an incredible game of soccer; literally dribbling it through the yard and "nose bumping" it if you threw it at her.

Zion's biggest ball ever

Zion slept with me every night. She would ball up next to my stomach and sleep there contently all night. I've never been a good sleeper, insomnia and i know each other well. The years with Zion always by my side are now missed during those long hours between two and five a.m. when i cannot sleep.

I've been told that if you live in the past you will be depressed, and if you live in the future you will be anxious. That makes sense, but i didn't learn that lesson or master living in the present until the last couple of years.

When i would look back and remember certain periods of my life, i could not remember any of them without knowing that the ever present feeling of depression and uneasiness lived within me. As i reflect on those higher flying days of mania when i would be in the middle of remodeling one of the salon's or building the 6,000 ft square building, called the Phazes Building. My energy and creativity was boundless and i felt i could conquer the world. A lot of great things came to be during my phases of mania, but the black dog always eventually won, Zion was there through all of it.

After i split up with my husband of 27 years, anxiety about the future was ever present. Had i known what the following eight years i had ahead of me i'm sure i would have never agreed to a divorce. Five months following splitting from Kelly i went to Las Vegas with TJ and some of his friends. I also took a good friend from high school who was going through an ugly divorce. He offered me a drink. I hesitated and told him of my tendency towards addiction. for I had had a three year stint with opioids in my late thirties.

I didn't drink much the first night, but the second night we both got pretty drunk, and at the time it made me forget all my troubles. When i agreed to divorce i thought it was the best thing for both of us. I had become indifferent to him and he was unhappy as well. The kids were raised. I had just finished my fifth consecutive quarter at the University of Utah, my Dad, who owned the Phazes Building had stage 4 cancer and i had to make some changes. I could have never imagined how changed my life would be with two decisions, to get divorced and to take a drink.

I did not return to school that Fall. I was giving it all and i had to rebuild the salon during the recession. Two years later i lost the salon in a turn of events that gave all the power to my father and stepmom. I moved in with Tandin, my son, and started back to the "U.." Two months later i would meet Kevin.

After moving in with Tandin i started hiding my liquor, and how much i drank. The first clue i had a real problem was when i stated hiding a pint of Vodka in my closet.

To be continued...

Vodka

                          A DOG is the only thing on earth that loves you more than she loves herself

                                      -Josh Billings  

continued from Dogs...

When i think of the day i got Zion, during my longest period of a depressive episode, and the day i put her to sleep, it was two of the most dark days i had ever endured. I held on to Zion way longer than i had a right. She had been blind for two years. I had reduced her dignity to carrying her everywhere the last six months. I knew she could see shadows because she still pushed the ball around with her nose, but constantly bumped into things. I battled the decision for a couple of months, i knew it was time when i put a ball in front of her and she just stood there.

The last trip Zion and I had at Zion's canyon

I fixed her a huge dish of scrambled eggs with tons of cheese one hour before i took her in to be euthanized. I don't believe i had ever felt such heavy feet as i carried her into the vet. They put her to sleep in my arms. I left and went to work that day. The next three days i stayed home and chugged vodka. When i would wake up i would chug some more until i passed out again.

Addiction and mental illness go hand in hand, and they both exacerbate each other. I knew this, it didn't stop me from drinking. All i wanted was to numb myself from the pain of thinking about my past and worrying about the future.

I met Kevin in the Fall of 2013. We both felt a chemistry we had never experienced before on our first date. He mostly talked about his adventures of traveling the world surfing. I mostly listened, talking about your ex and your previous family life seemed to have little interest to a confirmed bachelor of 57. He was a successful Realtor; me, a failed business woman who drank too much. I did have 3 incredible, successful boys i had raised and was close to. I was a student at the "U" again and barely making it through my classes. The trauma of losing my business and moving away from everything familiar was weighing heavily on me. I was without a job, without insurance, less than $100 in my bank account and an old jalopy of a vehicle. 

I had dated plenty the previous two years. I had met some really fine men, along with plenty of "one and done" dates. None had ever swept me off my feet, until i met Kevin.

I moved in with Kevin shortly after meeting him and we had a wonderful year of trips and concerts, belly laughs, along with a good share of fights. I was reeling with feeling i belonged no where and drinking secretlly. I felt that i lived in his world, while secretly i was trying to drown out the pain of my past. Kevin worked so much and he allowed me time to do what i wanted, which was mostly drink and not think of all i lost and what my future was going to be. Zion was the one familiar thing in my life and she comforted me. I knew she loved me, even if i didn't love myself.

to be continued...

A Puppy and a Kitten

                                          Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen

                                                            - Orhan Pamuk

Continued from "Vodka"... The seven dogs in my life have each taught me something different. I don't have a dog now. That will come shortly when Kevin and i semi retire and have time to raise a puppy.

When i get a dog this time, i will be a different person. Sure, my inate personality is still there, but i live more like dogs live...in the present.

I moved in with Kevin again after living seperate for 5 years. There was a comfort and a settling that happened after i moved in and the stability of a home and someone who loved me unconditionally was by my side.

Our lives became very routine. Hybernating because of covid that Spring gave me time to cacoon and start being present with myslef and even though the world seemed to be crumbling, i was getting stronger. I was sober and the dealership that i had now become a small invested owner in was growing and prospering. TJ, the leader and founder, my son and the visionary to TJ Chapman Auto had finally got over the hump. We had worked so hard, six, sometimes seven days a week, answering sales calls, trying to get our books straight, weathering the storms of employee drama and estblishing a nationwide reputation for selling rebuilt titles cars across the country.

Covid brought in an influx of internet buyers who found us, loved our concept, cars and our prices. We started shipping more and more vehciles all over the United States. The daily grind of getting up and working nine to sometimes twelve hours a day was paying off, and all of a sudden i realized...i am living in the present. I went home to Kevin each night. Saw grandkids on the weekends and found a couple of good TV series that both Kevin and i watched frequently. We watched more news than is good for any sane person and got caught up in the politics, racial unrest in the country, and the status of covid deaths. THe world outside wasn't so good, but my life was. My life had gotten really simple, content and when i thought of the years behind me it was just a story in my past. The future felt secure.I had no more financial worries, i had a happy healthy family with three prospering boys along with their wives and 4 grandsons.

Kevin and i are looking forward to cutting back in our careers soon and living life to the fullest. He wants to go back to traveling the world and i want to be with him and experience it with the love of my life.

Kevin & i with Gibson before his euthanization

We also will be getting a cat and a dog. A fluffy kitty that will sit in his office like his 21 year old cat, Gibson did in years past... and we will be getting a Boston Terrier. If you suffer from a mental illness and/or addiction and with anxiety, know that while the journey is hard, you can learn to live now and live happily.

                                 Dogs are our link to paradise

                                       - Milan Kundera

Addiction Part I

 Two years ago was the lowest i'd ever been in my life, and i've had my share of lows. I had moved to a new apartment and sworn off hard alcohol. I can't stand the taste of beer but it was the lesser of 2 evils to satiate my addiction. Oh sure, every morning for the previous 7 years i would go to bed and promise myself i would never take another drink. I got through a few of those days, even went through awful withdrawals several times. One detox attempt got so bad that for 2 hours i was sure i was dying, and for some reason i was begging God to let me live. That particular detox was spent with my mother at my side and hitting my knees several times an hour repeating..."help me, help me, help me." I was in sheer desperation feeling as though i needed to die to get out of my pain..i thought of how it would effect my kids.

My frequent attempts to quit drinking were so many i could not count, and then it happened..i had been drinking beer through the night to try to realize some sleep. Alcohol is a sleep disrupter, and waking up every couple of hours was all i knew. I'm not sure how many hours of sleep i got that night but it wasn't much. Beer couldn't knock me out like the hard liquor. 

I had a doctor's appointment at 8:30 a.m., and not feeling drunk i drove to my appointment. Because of a situation that was plaguing our family I was having cross words with my sister on the drive, and unnerved to say the least. When i pulled up to the parking space, by mistake i hit the gas, hard, instead of the brake. It threw me into the front of the building in front of me and took out the front end of the car i was driving from the dealership. 

Not long after the cops were swarming me and i took a trip to the emergency room and got myself a very very expensive DUI.

I found myself with no job to go to, no car and the love of my life had had enough. 

To be continued...

Addiction Part II

  ...Continued from Addiction Part 1

How could this have happened? In one fell swoop i managed to lose my license, lose my boyfriend and lose my job. What was i to do? My mom called and i would answer sometimes, but most of all i wanted to hide. My boys were pretty much through with my bad behavior as well as Kevin, my boyfriend, and seeing that there was nothing they could do, they all stayed away...hoping this was the answer to many prayers on my behalf to get sober. I had hit rock bottom.

Two days after the accident i went to my doctor and she immediately sent me to the hospital to detox. I was there for 3 days, but as soon as i got home i went straight to the gas station to buy more beer.  I continued to drink by going to the gas station (i had no car and no license) nearby and buy an 18 pack of beer for the day. I still had a little money in my bank account, but not much. I made sure i never ran out of beer because staying numb was the only way i could cope at the time.

Upon my release at the hospital there had been arrangements for me to get a new Doc. My new Doc was a Psychiatrist instead of a Physicians Assistant. My first appointment with my new Doc was two and a half hours of disclosing my mental health issues that had plagued me my whole life and my addiction. It became apparent to me i had tried to play doctor to myself for years (self medicating). Over the years i had done plenty of adjusting my own meds in a desperate attempt to not have another crash.

My new Psyche talked to me about something called co-morbidity and that mental health issues and addiction go hand in hand in the attempt to self medicate. I'd never heard of such a thing, i just always took myself for a weak person and conquering my addiction was constantly gnawing away at me. 

Adjustments to my medication were slowly made and within 3 months i was on a new regimen, including a once a month shot (vivitrol) that prohibited me from feeling any type of euphoria from alcohol. I no longer could get drunk even when i tried. And try i did, for the first week, i felt nothing but rotton when i took a drink. I was to take this terribly expensive shot once a month for a year, and the science shows that after a period of time the grooves in my brain that told me to drink would be making other pathways.

To be continued...