Just some bullet points of my journey to "Grabbing life by the balls and living!"
Losing my mom wasn’t just losing a parent—it was losing the anchor in my storm. It felt like my world fell apart, piece by piece, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever find solid ground again. I wasn’t just drowning in grief—I was pouring it into a glass, one sip at a time, hoping it would wash away the pain. Spoiler alert: It didn’t.
When she was diagnosed with cancer, I thought I had time. Time to prepare, time to say everything I wanted to say. But time is cruel, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone, taking parts of me with her I didn’t know how to live without.
I was drowning in the weight of motherhood, grief, and pain. I didn’t know how to balance it all—being a mom, carrying the loss of my own, and fighting a body that felt like it was turning against me. Some nights, I thought I was failing my kids just as much as I was failing myself.
Alcohol became my escape. Then my prison.
One drink to take the edge off. One more to help me sleep. But one became a few, a habit, a lifeline. It numbed the ache, blurred the reality, and for a moment, it let me breathe. Until it didn’t.
I nearly lost everything. Almost lost me.
Rock bottom forced me to look at the truth: My worth wasn’t defined by my worst moments. I wasn’t weak for hurting—I was human. I was surviving the only way I knew how. But surviving isn’t living. Surviving is life just passing you by, while you sit there not doing a thing about it.
It wasn't until October 2022 that everything came crashing down. I was rushed to the hospital, unable to walk, unable to write—unable to even take myself to the bathroom. I was trapped in a hospital bed, completely humiliated, completely broken. The doctors told me, again, it was all due to alcohol. Maybe part of it was, but I knew deep down there was more. Something no one was looking for.
For two months, I lay there, watching my life unravel. My husband brought our kids to visit, but they couldn’t stay long. Seeing me like that—it hurt them more than I could bear. My heart shattered every time they left, every time I saw the pain in their eyes.
Then came the moment that changed everything. Lying in that hospital bed, staring down the possibility of death, I knew I had two choices: keep drinking and let it destroy me, or fight like hell to take my life back. I chose the fight. The best decision I have ever made.
From that day forward, I made a promise—a promise to my husband, my children, and myself. It wasn’t just about quitting drinking; it was about reclaiming my life and rediscovering the person I wanted to be. At first, it felt like a big mountain to climb, but every step, every choice to move forward, started to feel like a victory.
Though it wasn’t always easy, I found strength I didn’t know I had. I chose to focus on healing—for my family and for me. Letting go of old habits allowed me to embrace something new: hope. And with that promise in my heart, I began to rebuild, one day at a time.
It wasn’t overnight, but over time, I realized that my mom’s strength lived in me. The same resilience she showed during her battle with cancer and throughout her time here, was now mine to carry forward.
My mother was nothing short of remarkable, no matter what anyone else might say about her. It wasn’t until I faced my own battle with addiction, tumbling to rock bottom, that I truly understood her. As I reflected on her life, I began to see the struggles she carried and how she handled them in her own way. Her favorite saying was, “Do as I say, not as I do.” And for years, I did exactly that.
But it wasn’t just her words—it was her belief in me that stuck. I remember her long, heartfelt conversations, telling me I was destined for something greater. She told me I deserved a life overflowing with love. She believed in my potential, even when I doubted it. Most of all, she reminded me that I could be the best mom to my kids—even better than she ever could be.
What I didn’t realize back then, but know now, is that every moment in my childhood and adulthood, every challenge leading up to the loss of my mom, shaped the fire in me. Her life, her lessons, and her love became the reason I decided to stop surviving and start living—to grab life by the balls and truly LIVE!
Addiction tries to break you, but it doesn’t have to define you. If you’re struggling, know this: there is always a way forward. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. Because life on the other side of the bottle isn’t just survival—it’s freedom, a new door opened so you can start building the life you were meant to before you were silently giving up on yourself.
This is just the beginning.. just know after reading this no matter how sad and eye opening it can be, because most of those close to me don't even know this part of me. I am living proof that you can get through this, because life is so much better on the other side.
Be prepared for the stories and experiences I'll share because I'm a mom of 5 and living life just like I said, "by the balls."
Until next time---
Comments
Post a Comment