Content Note:
This post includes discussion of chronic illness, grief, widowhood, and parenting challenges. Please read with care.
Some days, surviving feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever done—and I do it anyway.
I am a mother of three boys, one of whom has special needs. I am a widow. I live with end stage renal disease, a heart condition, and the lasting effects of two stroke. Some days my body reminds me how fragile life is. Some days I just try to make it through until bedtime.
And yet—I am still here.
This blog exists because survival isn’t always quiet, and it isn’t always pretty. It’s messy. It’s exhausting. It’s loving your children while your body feels like it’s betraying you. It’s choosing to get up again after loss, after illness, after the days that feel too heavy to carry.
I want this space to be honest. There will be no forced silver linings, no sugarcoating, no “everything happens for a reason” platitudes. There will just be the truth of living in a body and a life that is hard, alongside the moments of love, laughter, and stubborn hope that keep me going.
I write for anyone who carries more than they expected, anyone who has sat down at the edge of exhaustion and wondered how they could keep going. I write to say: it’s okay to feel every part of this. It’s okay to be tired, to be angry, to be afraid. It’s okay to survive—even when survival is messy.
Thank you for being here. Thank you for showing up to this space. I hope it can be a place where honesty is enough, and where we can witness each other’s lives without judgment.
I’ll be sharing pieces of my life—some heavy, some light, some ordinary, some hard. If you read one post and feel seen, understood, or simply less alone, then this space has done its job.
Still Standing 