Mahalo means “thank you” in Hawaiian.

Thank you, to my friends that have been here for me through the good, the bad, and the ugly.

As you know, I’ve struggled recently with my mental health. It’s only natural to be anxious and depressed after a *world series* of unfortunate events. And I’m no ‘Mr. Rogers’–I’m raw and unedited and I don’t leave you with warm fuzzies when I don’t have any to give. I won’t quote the bible or post inspirational meme’s–I’m nobody’s spiritual leader or security blanket.

But you accept me as I am.


Currently I’m getting ready to take my family to Hawaii. *No, we’re not going to the Big Island where the volcano is erupting, we’re going to Oahu “the gathering place”–people give me these looks of panic when I say Hawaii but there are SIX other islands so…chillax*

I lived there for 7 years and graduated from HPU. I’m excited to see my island home–my “wings”–as Missouri is my “roots”. I always felt safe on the island, like I belonged–that I was wanted. And going back feels akin to running into a mother’s embrace. I’m excited to see my friends and their kids. I’m excited to show BG my *happy place* (which is also Mr. MLACS’s happy place) and make beautiful memories.

I’m still fighting anxiety and depression, and I wish I wasn’t. But I feel better. I have my ups and downs but I’m pushing through. I’m taking good care of myself. I can feel the sunshine on my face again. I feel the warmth of BG’s embrace.

I feel the potential.

I feel the Aloha Spirit.

Will let you know how it goes.

A hui ho!




Another Loss. More Grief.

My (maternal) Grandma Margaret passed away last week.

I am so DONE.

Now at 38 years OLD (I feel ancient) I have lost both my parents and all of my grandparents. I’ve nearly lost my husband, *twice*. I’ve lost my colon. I’ve lost my house to a fire. I’ve lost babies to miscarriage.

Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind.

My life is defined by grief and loss, grief and loss, and more grief…and loss.

I’m now paranoid that ALL the bad things are going to happen. Any scenario my anxiety-riddled brain comes up with seems plausible. I’m struggling to live in the moment while also steeling myself for the next bad thing to happen. Will my husband drop dead? Will he be home alone with 3yr old BG? Will I be lulled into a false sense of security, on a mundane trip to Target, and return home to a hysterical child and unresponsive husband??? Will it be my beloved labrador retriever? Will he develop cancer or kidney failure? Or God forbid…if anything happens to BG…I would swiftly take my own life.

I don’t like living in fear. I do the f*ing EFT tapping therapy to try to stay mentally and physically healthy. But about the time I begin to move on from one tragedy, the next one strikes. It’s like tidal waves of tragedy keep trying to drown me and I keep kicking to the surface but about the time the water calms, another wave hits.

Metaphorically speaking I feel about as desperate as Tom Hanks in the movie Cast Away.

And I have nobody to talk to about it, except you–my internet friends.