Sober Sisters Events

04/13/2026

The first night of our trip blessed us with a magical sunset. I took the kids out onto the sand and watched them run toward the water. I felt that childlike flutter in my heart too—and then I looked up to say hi to her. I felt her presence as the sky turned a million beautiful shades.

My mom comes to me in these joyful moments. When she was here in the physical world, she wanted to be part of it all. If life had been perfect, she never would have missed a single moment with her family. She couldn’t always show up the way she wanted to—but now, she can. So in these moments when I feel her around me, I know I’m not just making it up. This isn’t wishful thinking. This is a spiritual experience.

We left the beachfront restaurant and walked down the streets of Folly Beach when I heard a familiar tune in the distance—“Angel from Montgomery,” my all-time favorite song. It makes me cry every time because it reminds me of her. A local musician was covering it, her raspy voice hitting me right in the soul. There she was again, just in case I missed her the first time. Hi, Mom.

That first night, I went to bed thinking of her, wishing I could tell her face to face how much I missed her. And then—she came to me in a dream. Her face was so close to mine, like she wanted to be as near as physically possible, just like when she was alive. I could feel the warmth radiating from her. She was doing well. She told me she loved me and missed me so much. We hugged so tightly.

It was short. Simple. I wish it could have lasted forever—but I know it can’t. Nothing beautiful stays here. Not the sunset, not your favorite song, not even the most special person. In this life, it all ends at some point.

Fortunately, my sobriety has taught me to lean into the present. Knowing it’s all fleeting makes it more meaningful. If I had been drinking, I probably would have missed her. The clarity I have now lets me experience each moment more deeply. I pause, I feel it fully, and then I carry it with me.

That’s one thing I’ve learned over the last couple of years: she isn’t gone from my life—she’s in the way I notice it. Sobriety didn’t bring her back. It taught me how to see what was still here. It was something she was always searching for, even if she never found it. And now, in a strange and beautiful way, it’s what helps me find her again and again.

The grief, like waves of the ocean, comes and goes—reminding me the love was real. Even when the sunset fades and the music ends, love finds a way to transcend through every layer of the universe.

I feel you. I hear you. I see you. I love you in every version.

Thank you, Folly Beach. Love you, Mama. What a trip. 🌊

04/02/2026

Yesterday was my firstborn son’s 10th birthday. Ten whole years. That once tiny, helpless, precious infant has grown into a smart, witty, confident human with a big personality all his own. It’s one of the wildest things I’ve ever witnessed.

So much has changed in these last 10 years. When I had Lyric, I was 29 with no real clue what I was getting myself into. No books, no parenting classes—I just assumed I’d figure it out like I always had. And little by little, day by day, that’s exactly what we did.

What you can never plan for is how much your mindset changes. Life stops being just about you. Selfishness isn’t really an option anymore. Your heart is walking around outside of your body, and you’ll do anything to protect it. That kind of responsibility demands growth.

After plenty of mistakes and moments I wish I could redo, I realized I could never live up to the kind of mother I wanted to be if alcohol still had a place in my life. One of the greatest gifts my children have given me is my sobriety. I don’t know if I would’ve found the courage to face myself and make those changes without them. I could’ve stayed stuck—numbing, binging, and living a life without real purpose. They gave me the reason to become better. And they still do.

These last 10 years have been the most transformative of my life, and it all started with him. I can never repay him—but I’ll always try. Through unconditional love, guidance, and this alcohol-free life—the best birthday gift that just keeps on giving.

I love you more than all the words, Lyr. 10 years down… we’re doing the damn thing. Happy Birthday to us. 🫶

03/20/2026

Early to car line on a Friday afternoon. This is the norm for me. It may not mean much to most people, but to me, being here means everything. I’m the dependable parent. The one who shows up every single day. My kids will never have to question that.

There were times in my childhood when nobody was there to pick me up. Not all the time, but more than once. My mom was a single parent with her own struggles, and I truly believe she did the best she could. But those moments of standing there, watching other kids leave, wondering where my mom was… they stuck with me. That feeling of panic became something I carried for a long time.

Even now, as an adult, I can feel it creep in if I’m running a few minutes behind. That old fear tries to tell me my kids might feel the same way I did.

Where is she? Did she forget me? Am I alone?

But then I remind myself — I’m not that scared little girl anymore. I’m a sober, reliable, present mom. And I am always their safe place.

Some people say car line is the worst, but for me, it’s just another small moment of gratitude.

Today, I’m giving my kids something I didn’t always have…and somehow, I’m healing a little piece of myself in the process.

Today, I’m the mom who shows up. Every time. And I will never take that for granted. 🤍

03/17/2026

12 years ago → Today 💚

Same green drinkware. Feeling much luckier.

St. Patrick’s Day used to mean partying all day and night, making questionable decisions, and just trying to survive the next day.

Today, it’s more about thriving than surviving.

Turns out the lucky life was the sober one all along. ☘️

03/15/2026

Baseball season is back in full swing! ⚾
And so is life.

My schedule is full, the weekends are long, and some days I wish I could clone myself just to get everyone where they need to be.

But I don’t take these days for granted.

There was a time when being outside all Saturday, running from field to field, cheering in the heat, packing snacks, and keeping up with life… would have felt nearly impossible.

Hungover me would have benched herself.

Sober me?
I wouldn’t trade this for anything.

I’m here & I’m present. There is nowhere else I’d rather be than on the sidelines of this beautiful, busy life.

03/12/2026

You know you always have room for a sweet treat! Check out my sister’s upcoming vendor events and get your fix! 🍪 💖

The more you know 💖 I hope you can make it to at least one of these March events! 🍪 ☀️

03/11/2026

Many of us quietly reach a moment or even hundreds of little moments where something inside of us whispers:

This isn’t helping me anymore.

It’s not always rock bottom. Sometimes it’s just a small but mighty realization that your life could feel lighter and clearer without it.

If you’ve had that moment, I’d love to hear about it.

Finish this sentence below:
“I realized alcohol wasn’t serving me when…”

There’s power in saying it out loud.
And there’s healing in realizing you’re not the only one.

🤍

03/10/2026

Healing speeds up when women stop doing it alone.

Shame dissolves.
Hope grows.
Real connection forms.

And suddenly the path forward feels possible.

If you’re building an alcohol-free life and craving real sisterhood, you’re not alone here. 🤍

02/05/2026

Quiet confidence hits different.