Writing 101: Your Personality on the Page


We all have anxieties, worries, and fears. What are you scared of? Address one of your worst fears.

Today’s twist: Write this post in a style distinct from your own.

I kept you safe. Kept safe inside my womb. We have a bond that won’t break. You were born and a new chapter began. The anxiety set in. The world is full of wonder. Infestation of evil & tragedy seem overwhelming. Fear around every corner.
Natural disasters, what if I can’t hold on when nature is trying to pull you away? Illnesses, what if I can’t find a cure? Strangers, what if my head is turned a second too long? The unknown, what if I can’t react fast enough to get you out of harm’s way?
My two sweet darlings, you are my everything. It’s unbearable to imagine all the things that might happen. Without you I would have nothing.


Writing 101: Lost and Found

Writing 101: Lost & Found


Dear Diary,

The warmest feeling I’ve ever known is nostalgia and the same time it can be lonely. Being able to “feel” is a feat all in its own, I’m so used to numbing myself that every feeling I get is magnified. It’s excruciating to hold back and let myself breathe through it. The tiny demon inside is always trying to grab hold of me and trick me into thinking that it’s okay to get high “one more time”.

This afternoon I almost let her take control. I was caught off guard going through boxes of stuff in storage. Hoping to be strong enough to throw most of it out I came across a box marked “baby boy stuff”. Immediately I knew it was my son’s clothes or toys and I felt that I would probably be able to donate it instead of wasting it in the trash.

The first item to catch my eye upon opening the box was a size 3-6month “onesy”. It was dark blue with a picture of a bottle and said Mr. Milkman. It smelled of Mustela baby lotion when I brought it to my chest, the bittersweet smell made me start to cry. Thinking of all my memories with him at that age. I don’t know why but I thought if I could hold it closely enough I might be able to feel his tiny body against mine.

Each item I held took me on numerous flashbacks. Happy times when I was his true mother and his one & only. These happy thoughts quickly turned into flashbacks of relapsing, losing custody, and each big moment in his life I had stood in the background. The fact that my mom is raising him and I may never get the chance to again felt like a fist in my chest.

I know that I didn’t lose my son, I allowed my addiction to call the shots and I knew the consequences. I knew if I used drugs that my son would be gone. That demon inside took over and I rationalized getting high, thinking that I could do it once and stop.

When I finished going through everything in that one box I was emotionally exhausted.  Nothing got accomplished. I could not bare to part with the little I had left of my first born.


Writing 101: Serially Found

On day four, you wrote a post about losing something. Today, write about finding something.
Today’s twist: if you wrote day four’s post as the first in a series, use this one as the second installment — loosely defined.

A decade wasted. Hundreds of thousands of dollars injected in my veins, 90% of which was stolen or “hustled”. I have nothing to show for it, I am starting at the bottom and slowly inching my way up.
I may not have material things and live in a supportive-subsidized apartment, but recovery has helped me grow spiritually & find my true soul.

There’s a long journey ahead, the work I’ve accomplished only scratches the surface. The depths I need to reach inside seem endless, the trauma I’ve encountered feel impossible to heal. This cannot stop me. I stay in “today” and deal with things as they come my way instead of worrying about what might happen.

Writing 101: Serially Lost


Writing 101: Serially Lost (catch-up challenge)__ Write about a loss: something (or someone) that was part of your life, and isn’t any more.

Grieving has become an event in my life like the changing of seasons. Loss comes on sudden mostly, but the biggest loss I’ve had slowly chipped away in pieces.

Pain management medication (oxy contin to be more specific) was the soil, seed, sunlight, and water that my disease of addiction  used to grow. Over a 6 month period my recreational drug use turned into daily drug use and with that my identity deteriorated. Values instilled in me growing up had vanished, self-worth was gone, and I was left spiritually bankrupt.

It did not take long for the disease to progress to intravenously using heroin. Constant lying & sneaking around. My family was burned out, they couldn’t live in a war zone anymore. Homelessness didn’t scare me into sobriety like they hoped it would. The little girl they knew was gone, she was replaced with a demon inside the hollow shell of my body.

I had no clue what was happening or why everyone was making such a big deal, in my twisted mind I thought I was only hurting myself. I didn’t know I was losing myself in the grips of addiction.

Writing 101: Your Voice Will Find You

 Prompt: Think about an event you’ve attended and loved. Your hometown’s annual fair. That life-changing music festival. A conference that shifted your worldview. Imagine you’re told it will be cancelled forever or taken over by an evil corporate force.

How does that make you feel? Twist: write in your own voice 


I strained my brain trying to think of an event that I would have attended, let alone be upset if it was cancelled. Then it came to me: of course! The Fowler Dance Studio (FDS)! I don’t have to pretend either, the FDS did close.

At the age of about 4 is when I started taking dance class at FDS, my sister (age 7) also started at the same time. Every Saturday morning my family would drive down the street to the “square” where the studio was. After class we would go out to eat.

As we got older our class times changed. It was during the work week in the afternoon. My sister was in the “serious group” so they took 3 or 4 different types of dance (ballet, jazz, tap, sometimes lyric). I only stuck with one class, a couple of years I took two.

At the end of each class cycle (June) there would be a recital. This was the highlight of the year and a big ordeal. There were 3 rehearsals, two would be at the studio (they separated us for different days depending on what number you were in the show). Those rehearsals were fun because you got to preform in front of other classes and the director without much pressure. The last rehearsal was a dress rehearsal where the recital would be (John Hancock building). This was a run threw. The next night was the actual show.

The recital itself wasn’t just the best part. The before, during, and after made the whole experience come together. Getting ready with my aunt & mom’s help at the house was exciting. I loved putting my costume on and getting my make-up & hair done. I felt like a model. I remember putting on my dad’s light blue button up shirt so that I wouldn’t ruin anything. I had a bag filled with snacks & activities to do in the dressing room while I waited for my group to go on. After the show, my sister and I would receive flowers from our parents & aunt then it was time to eat! We would drive to Howard Johnson’s for a celebratory meal. There was a lot of dancers & their families celebrating there too.

The beginning of my 8th year at FDS everyone was informed the studio would be closing after the recital. It was a huge shock. The majority of my life was spent there. It was a tradition in our family. What was I supposed to do now?

This was the first time in my young life that I felt a real loss. I’ve had pets die and friends that moved away, but this created a big void in my world. The next summer I started Pop Warner cheerleading. It was drama and headaches.

I still drive past the old studio (now a house) on the way to visit my mom and son. The people who live there have no idea the amout of memories that were created inside those walls.

Writing 101: to whom it may concern

Pick up the nearest book and flip to page 29. What’s the first word that jumps off the page? Use this word as your springboard for inspiration. If you need a boost, Google the word and see what images appear, and then go from there. 

Today’s twist: write the post in the form of a letter.


My darling Conscious,

I have longed to finally meet you. Everything has been blurred by a fog, and since you’ve came into my life I’ve been lifted above & able to see.

I must admit that it took me half my life to know you existed, and after that I prepared for years before meeting you. I was anxious for that day to come. In the beginning I would have skipped my years long journey if I could. Looking back, I’m pleased I did not wish it all away. For without it I would not have grown. Each step was an epiphany and though I assumed I was walking this journey alone, you stayed by my side.

For this I am eternally grateful.