Drops of Inner Peace

12/28/2025

Join me every Sunday here on my page for gentle tools to help you find peace in the chaos of loving someone through addiction.

This is your space to pause, reset, and choose peace, no matter what’s happening around you.

💚 Follow along each week & save these posts so you can return to them whenever the chaos feels heavy.

💫When You Feel Yourself Slipping Back Into Old Patterns

If you keep slipping back into old patterns, it’s not failure, it’s trauma asking for healing.

You’re not going backwards. You’re revisiting a part of yourself that still needs love.
Your patterns aren’t flaws, they are survival strategies your soul created.

This week, notice your patterns without judgment.
Awareness is the first step toward liberation.

💬 Journal Prompt:
What old pattern is resurfacing, and what is it trying to teach me?

💎 Crystal & Oil:
• Amethyst — breaking old cycles
• Clary Sage — mental clarity + intuition

🕯 Mini Ritual:
Light a candle and journal for three minutes. Ask your pattern:
“What are you trying to protect me from?”
Listen gently.

✨ Affirmation:
“I honor my past patterns, and I choose a new path forward.”

12/26/2025

33 years ago at 1:57 pm, my son Dominic came into this world and changed my life forever. I became a mom at 17, scared and determined, doing the best I could with what I knew at the time. Our journey together has been anything but easy.

There were years of heartbreak, distance, fear, and a lot of praying through tears. There were seasons where our relationship was rocky, and life took us places I never imagined we’d have to go.

But we grew up together. And I never stopped loving him.

Today, I am incredibly proud of the man he is. He is sensitive, strong, resilient, and has been in recovery for a while now. I thank God every single day that I get to celebrate another year with him in my life. His laughter, his presence, his heart, they are miracles I will never take for granted.

If you are a mom still in the thick of it… please don’t lose hope. Healing is possible. Recovery is possible. Relationships can be rebuilt. And even when the journey feels impossibly heavy, love has a way of finding its way through.

Happy Birthday, Dominic. You are proof that miracles happen. 💙

hopeforthehurting

12/24/2025

If you’re a mama walking through this holiday season with a heart that’s heavier than you ever imagined… I see you.

Maybe your child isn’t coming home.
Maybe they are… but addiction is coming with them.
Maybe you won’t hear from them at all.
Or maybe you’ll spend the day pretending you’re “okay” so everyone else can enjoy Christmas.

It’s a special kind of grief when your child is still here… but addiction has taken pieces of them away.
And it’s a special kind of pain to love someone so deeply while having absolutely no control over their choices.

So if the tears come this season… let them.
They are proof of your love, your devotion, your motherhood, your humanity.
You are not “too emotional.”
You’re a mother living through something that would break most people.

When the ache gets loud and your mind spirals into fear, guilt, and “what ifs,” try this little reset:

✨ A Small Holiday Reset for Your Heart
Put your hand over your chest.
Take one slow breath in.
Say to yourself:
“I am allowed to feel this.”
“I can love my child without destroying myself.”
“I am still worthy of peace, even in the chaos.”
Breathe out slowly and imagine laying the weight down… even if just for a moment.

Then do one tiny thing that brings warmth back into your body, wrap up in a blanket, hold a warm mug, step outside for cold air and a deep breath, light a candle, touch something real so your nervous system remembers you are safe right now.

You don’t have to hold Christmas together.
You don’t have to be strong every second.
And you don’t have to stop loving your child to protect your peace.

You deserve softness, comfort, and moments of quiet joy, too.

You are not alone here. I’m right here with you. ❤️

12/23/2025

addictionfamilies holidaygrief christmasisntalwaysmerry holidaysarehard grievingtheliving silentstruggles nervoussystemhealing traumarecoveryjourney mentalhealthawareness rawmotherhood reallifemotherhood motherhoodunfiltered boundariesarelove chooseyourpeace healinginrealtime protectyourenergy emotionalexhaustion youarenotalone healingmothers dropsofinnerpeac

12/22/2025

I found an old ornament while decorating our Christmas tree with their little faces inside it. Tiny smiles. Baby cheeks. That look in their eyes before life got heavy.

And for a minute I just stood there holding it, remembering when my only worries were scraped knees and bedtime stories. When they were still so small and the world hadn’t had a chance to get loud yet.

I won’t lie. My heart still whispers sometimes, I wish life would have gone differently for both of you. I wish you had been protected from certain pains. I wish your paths had been softer. I wish the innocent joy in this little ornament had lasted forever.

But I also know this. I loved you fiercely then, and I love you fiercely now. Even through the mess. Even through the heartbreak. Even through the things I couldn’t change.

This ornament holds more than a picture. It holds every prayer I ever whispered over you. Every tear. Every hope. Every version of me that kept showing up even when I was breaking.

You were my babies then. You’re still my babies now. Just living in a world that didn’t turn out the way I dreamed.

And I’m still standing here, loving you anyway.

12/21/2025

Join me every Sunday here on my page for gentle tools to help you find peace in the chaos of loving someone through addiction.

This is your space to pause, reset, and choose peace, no matter what’s happening around you.

💚 Follow along each week & save these posts so you can return to them whenever the chaos feels heavy.

The Guilt That Isn’t Yours

You do not have to apologize for prioritizing your peace.

Caption:
You’ve carried blame, guilt, and responsibility that was never meant for you.
Guilt is a heavy habit, not a truth.

You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to have boundaries.
You are allowed to choose peace even when others don’t understand.

💬 Journal Prompt:
What guilt am I ready to let go of today?

💎 Crystal & Oil:
• Selenite — cleansing old emotional patterns
• Lavender — softening guilt + releasing tension

🕯 Mini Ritual:
Place your hand on your heart and whisper:
“I do not carry what is not mine.”

✨ Affirmation:
“My peace is not up for negotiation.”

12/19/2025

12/17/2025

12/15/2025

There was a time about 6 or 7 years ago that showed me just how badly I needed to heal.

It was December 26th, my son’s birthday.
I hadn’t seen him on Christmas. I hadn’t heard from him in about a week. And that silence… it was the kind that eats your insides alive.

I was sitting in my living room, trying to pretend everything was fine, when I looked out the window and saw a Michigan State Trooper pulling into my driveway.

My whole body dropped.

My heart sank so fast it felt like it hit the floor. My eyes filled instantly with tears, and I started panicking before I could even think.

I looked at my husband and said, “Why are the cops here? Omg why are the cops here?”

My breath went shallow. A lump hit my throat so hard it hurt. Tears were already streaming down my face. My voice got louder and louder as my husband jumped up to get to the door.

“WHY ARE THE COPS HERE??”

He had that look. The one where he’s trying to stay calm for me, even though his own face was filled with worry. “I’m going to find out,” he said as gently as he could.

I moved into the kitchen because I couldn’t stand still. My whole body was shaking.

I heard the officer’s voice through the door:
“Did you see anything unusual on Christmas Eve?”

My husband said, “No.”

The trooper replied, “Your neighbor’s house got broken into.”

And the relief… it hit me like a wave so hard my legs almost gave out. I started sobbing, not just crying, sobbing.

Because in that split second, I thought the police were coming to tell me my son was dead.
On his birthday.

That moment showed me everything I had been carrying.
Everything I had been bracing for.
Everything I had been pretending wasn’t eating me alive.

It was the moment I realized, “I can’t live like this anymore.”