raising kids

darnold1975

Truth Over Tradition: My Exit From Comfortable Dysfunction

“The truth didn’t break my family. The pretending did.”

-Unknown

Here’s the bigger picture. I didn’t grow up in a family that heals. Problems don’t get solved. They get buried alive. And then resurrected during holidays like emotional zombies. Now that me and my sister are adults, childhood resentments still pop up like whack‑a‑mole. And nobody wants to pick up a mallet. Let’s all smile in public so we don’t “defame the family.” Which honestly, does a fantastic job defaming itself.

And my family isn’t special. Dysfunction is everywhere. I have enough mental health education in my background to recognize the patterns. But they’ll swear I’m the problem. If you look past the church smiles, the whole system is sick. I would genuinely rather be hit by a car than attend “family time.” And because my kids were born into a lesbian family, they get treated like they came with a moral recall notice.

You can’t throw money at children and then take no active part in their lives the rest of the time. Especially, when you do the opposite with the other children in the family. The kids notice. I’ve tried talking about it for 17 years. And the truth is this. They just don’t care.

I have a master’s degree in counseling psychology. Yet somehow I’m the ignorant one. They don’t want insight. They don’t want help. They want silence. And mine has officially expired. I defend myself and my kids however I see fit. Respectfully? No. Effectively? Absolutely.

They want healing without effort. They’re emotional pillow princesses that want the benefits of growth while doing absolutely nothing but blinking dramatically. And when truth bruises their egos, accountability never shows up. Meanwhile, my dad plays messenger pigeon flying information back and forth between me and the rest of the family so that the dysfunction stays perfectly preserved.

Here’s the part they’ll never admit. Family therapy requires guts and transparency. And those two things they treat like forbidden sins. Instead, they’ve built a giant sand pile where they can bury their heads. And pretend nothing is wrong. That’s their comfort zone. Not truth. Not healing. Just sand. Neck‑deep and breathing through a straw of selective memory.

My favorite quote says it best, “If nothing changes, then nothing changes.” And I refuse to be silenced because their comfort depends on my suffering.

Our family lives in what I call comfortable dysfunction. It’s the emotional recliner they refuse to replace even though the springs are broken. And the fabric smells like denial. It’s easier than accountability. Easier than honesty. Easier than saying, “Maybe the gay daughter isn’t the downfall of civilization.”

And as if being the rainbow sheep wasn’t enough. I’m also the green sheep of the family because I’m a medical cannabis patient. And the family’s translation is that I’m “druggin’ and thuggin’.” The “bad influence.” And the “one who needs prayer.” But that’s not even the real issue.

The problem is my refusal to sit quietly in the pew of generational silence. The issue is that I no longer participate in the family’s favorite pastime of pretending. I’m done shrinking myself so other people can stay cozy in their outdated beliefs. I’m done letting conservative Christian values be weaponized against me and my children.

They can keep their selective morality. The kind where my sister thinks being gay is “wrong and evil.” But somehow premarital sex is just the Olympic sport of “being human.” Funny how sin gets flexible when it’s their behavior on the table. 

“My family says I’m ‘living in sin.’ Which is wild coming from some of them who wave a red hat like it’s the state flower. They preach about morality and still treat premarital sex, drinking, and hypocrisy like they’re covered under the ‘Jesus forgives me’ warranty.”And trust me. They act like I graffitied the Ten Commandments in rainbow glitter.

Being gay automatically made me the family’s “problem child.” Even though the real problems have nothing to do with what gender I love. And everything to do with the fact that I refuse to pretend. My sister can have premarital sex. Drink like she’s hydrating for the Olympics and drive afterward. And micromanage her child like she’s running a dictatorship. But somehow I’m the moral crisis.

Meanwhile, my sister’s shot glasses stays full. Her judgment stays loud. And her hypocrisy stays undefeated. Funny how cannabis for medical reasons is “dangerous.” But alcohol with a side of denial is “just being human.” I’m the rainbow sheep because I live authentically. I’m the green sheep because I choose a legal, doctor‑recommended treatment. And I’m the scapegoat because I refuse to shrink so other people can stay comfortable in their dysfunction. If being myself makes me the rainbow‑green hybrid sheep of the family, then so be it. At least I’m not grazing in the pasture of hypocrisy.

So no, I’m not stepping back into the box they built for me. I’m not dimming myself, so their comfort stays intact. I’m not carrying the weight of a family that refuses to lift a finger for its own healing. They can keep their comfortable dysfunction. They can keep their silence. They can keep their outdated beliefs wrapped in Bible verses that only apply to me.

Today I honor my inner rainbow‑green sheep. I’m fabulously queer. I’m medically lifted. And completely unbothered by the opinions of people who confuse hypocrisy with holiness.”

I’m choosing truth over tradition. I’m choosing growth over guilt. I’m choosing my children, my peace, and my sanity. And if my existence shakes the foundation of their worldview. Then the foundation was weak to begin with. Thanks for reading! Do you and let the others do them.

Affirmation: I bless my rainbow‑green sheep soul today queer, medicated, and thriving. While certain relatives clutch their red hats and pearls at my existence. But don’t blink twice at their own chaos, contradictions, or alcohol fueled commandments.

***Don’t forget the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife

darnold1975

The Family Roles & The Circus They Created

“My family says I’m ‘living in sin.’ Which is hilarious coming from people who treat denial like a spiritual gift. And premarital sex like a community service.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, get your shoes on and leave. Today we’re diving into one of my favorite dysfunctional family topics. Family roles. Those unofficial job titles we never applied for. Never wanted. And yet somehow ended up performing like we were on salary. Take a moment and see where you and your people fall. And here’s the spoiler. If you’re reading this, you already know.

Before we get started, let me warn you. This is not a gentle stroll through family history. This is a full‑blown guided tour through a Southern household. That’s been held together with casserole, denial, and conservative Christian values. That seem to get applied with the accuracy of a toddler using glitter glue.

I grew up in a family where “we don’t talk about that” wasn’t a suggestion. It was the eleventh commandment. Emotions were treated like illegal fireworks. Everyone had them. Nobody handled them correctly. And something always exploded at the worst possible time.

In my house, honesty was considered aggressive. Accountability was considered disrespectful. And therapy? Therapy was treated like witchcraft performed by people who “don’t know Jesus personally.”

Meanwhile, the dysfunction strutted around the living room in broad daylight wearing a name tag and a church hat. And everyone pretended they couldn’t see it. If denial were a sport, my family would have Olympic medals and a sponsorship from Hobby Lobby.

So, buckle your emotional seatbelt. And prepare yourself. Because once you recognize the roles in a dysfunctional family. It’s like spotting roaches. You can’t unsee them. And suddenly they’re everywhere.

Family roles are the expected behaviors, responsibilities, and emotional acrobatics each person performs to keep the family circus running. These roles shift depending on culture, family size, and personality. But the classics are Hero, Scapegoat, Golden Child, Lost Child, Mascot. And I show up everywhere like glitter after a craft project.

Let’s begin.

1. The Hero (a.k.a. The Family PR Department) The Hero’s job is to make the family look normal, stable, and “blessed and highly favored” to the outside world. According to theraplatform.com (2025), they take on excessive responsibility to gain approval. This is my mother’s role. Or at least the role she auditions for. She is attention-seeking. Reputation-obsessed. And allergic to accountability. She delivers passive-aggressive comments like she’s handing out communion wafers. And then acts shocked when people get upset.

Her signature move? “The Dummy Card.” Suddenly she “doesn’t remember,” “didn’t mean it like that,” or “doesn’t know what you’re talking about.” But trust me, she knows. And right after she stirs the pot. She gives my dad the “rescue me” look. As if she didn’t just season that pot with cayenne, spite, and generational trauma. We only have real conversations when she’s mad at my sister, The Golden Child. Otherwise, it’s news, sports, and weather which is the Holy Trinity of Avoidance.


2. The Scapegoat (hi, it’s me) The Scapegoat is blamed for everything wrong in the family. Stubbed toe? My fault. Bad weather? Somehow me. The economy? Probably me too. I don’t conform to their lifestyle. I’m gay. I use medical cannabis. I don’t go to church because there are too many people who support the cruelty of the Trump regime. And align theirselves with the MAGA movement which practices a form of chriatianity that cannot be found in any Bible. And quite frankly, they have a bad reputation for normalizing pedophilia while demonizing being gay. I guess I should be glad that I just can’t understand that rationale. 

I talk about taboo topics. And I acknowledge reality instead of pretending everything is fine.
And did I mention I’m gay? Because trust me they will. Instead of saying,
“She’s our family and we love her no matter the gender of someone she loves and that loves her.” They act like my existence is a PR crisis. The attitude is like, “Remember when Dana destroyed the family by being prouid to be gay and authentic?”  I’m also the family whistleblower. I don’t play along with generational nonsense. I’m my own person. And I’m not apologizing for it.

3. The Golden Child (my sister, obviously) The Golden Child is the family’s prized possession. The chosen one. The favorite. And the one who can do no wrong even when she is actively doing wrong. Thriveworks.com (2023) describes this child as obedient, praised, and protected. That’s her. She has been dipped in gold since birth. She follows the script. Holds the same beliefs. And passes them down to her children like heirloom china. She was taught what to think. Not how to think. And the cycle continues. Children aren’t born to hate. They learn it from the adults who raise them. And this is what my sister excels at consistently.

4. The Lost Child (also my sister — she multitasks) The Lost Child avoids conflict like it’s a full-time job with benefits. She withdraws. Stays quiet. And pretends she’s above the chaos. While simultaneously contributing to it. She never acknowledges her harmful behavior. She believes most people are beneath her. And when she talks about someone being gay, she spells it out “G-A-Y” like she’s avoiding summoning a demon. Her emotional range is that of a frozen waffle. And honestly, that’s the family vibe overall.

5. The Mascot (me and my dad) Mascots use humor to distract from the dysfunction. We crack jokes. Lighten the mood. And do not dare fix anything. We just to keep the room from exploding. This doesn’t always work especially when me and my sister are at war like rainbows and bibles. My dad rescues my mom and sister from “big, bad Dana.” Who refuses to sweep things under the rug. I’m the villain because I tell the truth. Imagine that. Kind of sounds like the current government’s level of functioning.

Now you’ve met the cast and the roles they cling to like emotional security blankets. In the next part we’ll zoom out and look at the bigger picture. And it’s the part they refuse to acknowledge.

That concludes our tour of the Family Circus. Please exit through the gift shop. Where denial is half‑off. Accountability is out of stock. And the Scapegoat merchandise is mysteriously overpriced.” Thanks for reading! Keep breaking chains.

Affirmation: Today I honor my emotionally athletic self. The whistleblowing. Boundary‑setting. Truth‑telling legend who refuses to join the family’s Olympic Denial Team. Even though they’ve been training since the womb.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife

darnold1975

The Raccoon Tallywacker Scandal That Ruined My Road Trip

“If the government starts labeling raccoon parts, it’s time to reevaluate the whole system.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the charcoal. Apparently we’re grilling up another round of American foolishness. And this time it’s so unhinged it made me, a woman who enjoys poking fun at the current administration as a form of cardio. dissociate so hard I briefly left my body. Consulted my ancestors. And came back needing another therapy session and a cold compress.

I mean, I’ve roasted this administration before. I’ve seasoned them like Sunday chicken. I’ve vented, ranted, cackled, and written whole blog posts powered solely by spite and sweet tea. But this latest “news report” involving a high‑ranking official, a raccoon, and the alleged removal of said raccoon’s gentlemanly region for “study,” had me blinking like a possum in a flashlight beam.

My ancestors, the whole committee, materialized around me like, “Baby, what in the backwoods biology class is happening up there in Washington?” And honestly? I didn’t have an answer. I was too busy trying to remember my name, my location, and why the government is so chronically preoccupied with anything south of a creature’s ribcage.

Listen. I was minding my business. Sipping my gas‑station Diet Coke on a family road trip through the scenic wasteland between “Are we there yet?” and “If you touch your brother one more time I’m pulling this car over,” when the internet decided to fling a headline at me so deranged it made my ancestors sit up in their graves like, “Now what in the possum‑blessed hell is this?!”

Apparently, and I say this with the full weight of Southern disbelief, a high‑ranking government official has been reported to have removed a raccoon’s gentleman’s handle and taken it home “for study.” 

And I’m sitting there in the driver’s seat. Clutching my chest like a Pentecostal auntie catching the Holy Ghost. And wondering why this administration is so chronically preoccupied with genitals. Human genitals. Animal genitals. Hypothetical genitals. Imagined genitals. Genitals in theory, practice, and lab‑grade Tupperware. Meanwhile, the rest of us are just trying to get to Buc‑ee’s before the boy’s mutiny.

So, there we are, rolling down I‑59, when my phone lights up with yet another “breaking news” alert about this alleged raccoon situation. And every time I try to read it aloud, the universe punishes me by making the boys argue louder. But I persevere. Because I am a Southern woman and therefore built for chaos.

The article claims, with the confidence of a man who’s never been told no. This unnamed official allegedly removed the raccoon’s pork sword and tucked it into a cooler like it was leftover potato salad. Then, apparently, he took the raccoon’s ding‑dang doodle home “for research,” which is the kind of phrase that should automatically trigger a wellness check.

I’m sorry, but what kind of research? Peer‑reviewed? Government‑funded? DIY backyard biology? A PowerPoint titled “Raccoon Rods: A Retrospective”? And why, why, why, is this administration so obsessed with woodland critter anatomy? We’ve got potholes big enough to swallow a Kia Soul. But somebody’s out here collecting raccoon tallywackers like Pokémon.

At one point, my youngest son, who has been silently judging the entire situation from the backseat, leans forward and says, “Momma, I don’t know what’s going on in Washington. But if they’re cutting off raccoon toololly on purpose, that’s a sign the Lord is coming back soon.” I agreed. And then I look in my rearview mirror, and both boys are Googling “raccoon privates” on my hotspot. Which means I’m going to be on an FBI watchlist by sundown.

And the article just keeps escalating. Apparently the raccoon’s love baton was placed in a labeled baggie. A LABELED. BAGGIE. Sir, if you have a filing system for raccoon reproductive memorabilia, I need you to step away from public office and into therapy.

When we finally got home, I sat my cats down for a family meeting. Here is the transcript because trauma shared is trauma halved.

Me: “Alright, children. Gather round. Mama has something to tell you. And I need everyone emotionally regulated before I begin.”

Piper: “If this is about the vacuum cleaner again, I already told you I thought it was attacking us first.”

Me: “No, baby. This is worse. There’s been another situation in our government. A raccoon‑related situation. A gentleman‑region situation.”

Coco: “Momma, did somebody steal that raccoon’s downstairs department?”

Me: “Allegedly. And then allegedly took it home. For ‘study.’”

Tinkerbell: “I have lived through many things. Worms. Diarrhea. The betrayal of canned food that promised gravy but delivered lies. But this. This is new.”

Piper: “Hold on. Hold on. A human took a raccoon’s personal peener portfolio and brought it home like a souvenir from Bass Pro Shop?”

Me: “That’s what the article said.”

Coco: “Momma, I’m gonna be real with you. That sounds like the plot of a horror movie where the villain wears cargo shorts.”

Tinkerbell: “My ancestors are whispering. They say, ‘Child, this is why we stayed in the sunbeam and minded our business.’”

Me: “Mine too, baby. Mine too. When I read it, I dissociated so hard I floated above the car like a helium balloon tied to generational trauma.”

Piper: “Okay but why? Why would anyone do that. Why would anyone look at a raccoon and think, ‘You know what I need? That.’”

Me: “Apparently for research.”

Coco: “Research into what? Raccoon romance? Forest fertility? The aerodynamic properties of woodland dignity?”

Tinkerbell: “Perhaps they were trying to understand the mysteries of nature. Or perhaps they were simply unwell.”

Piper: “Momma, if a human ever comes near ME with a cooler and a label maker, I’m calling 911 myself.”

Me: “Same, baby.”

Coco: “I shall meditate on this. But first, I require a treat. Trauma makes me hungry.” 

Tinkerbell: “I’m just saying. If the government is out here collecting raccoon accessories, we need to start locking the doors earlier.”

Me: “Honestly? Same.”

Piper: “Momma, I need to call the therapist again.”

Me: “Baby, you just talked to her last week.”

Piper: “Well, I need another session. A deep one. EMDR.Eye‑Movement‑Desensitization‑and‑Raccoon‑related trauma. I need the little finger‑wiggle thing. I need the beepy headphones. I need the full package.”

Coco: “Girl, you need a punch card at this point.”

Tinkerbell: “I support her healing journey. But also, I would like a snack.”

Me: “Children. I cannot afford for all of us to be in therapy at the same time. My insomnia already has insomnia. My anxiety has a side hustle. My nervous system is running Windows 95.”

Piper: “Well maybe if the government stopped doing raccoon science projects, we could all sleep.”

Coco: “Facts.”

Tinkerbell: “I shall add this to my journal.”

By the time we reached the state line, I had accepted four things.

  1. This country is spiritually unwell.
  2. Rabies could potentially be spread in more than one way.
  3. No one in power should be allowed near a raccoon unsupervised.
  4. If one more news alert mentions a woodland critter’s “equipment,” I’m moving to a swamp and starting over.

I mean it. I’ll become a barefoot bayou oracle. I’ll read fortunes in crawfish shells. I’ll speak only in riddles and weather predictions. I’ll never again hear the phrase “raccoon meat whistle” and that will be a blessing unto my soul.

But until that day comes, I will simply say this. If your administration is spending more time on critter crotches than on infrastructure, healthcare, or literally anything else, maybe just maybe, it’s time to log off. Step outside. And touch some grass that does not belong to a raccoon missing his twig‑and‑berries. Amen and pass the cornbread. Thanks for reading! Keep laughing through this administrative pain. America, please log off. What do you think about this story involving raccoon peener collecting?

Affirmation: I release all chaos that is not mine. Including but not limited to raccoon anatomy, government foolishness, and family‑road‑trip nonsense. I remain grounded. Hilarious. And unbothered.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife

darnold1975

Child Abuse Awareness: When the Safe Places Aren’t Safe

“When the places built to protect children become the places that break them, the wound isn’t just personal. It’s a failure of every adult who chose silence over responsibility.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the candles. Move the breakables. Tell the ancestors to take their seats and pass the sweet tea. We’re not easing into this one. And before the denial committee calls an emergency meeting to rehearse their “But that’s not what we meant” speeches, let’s go ahead and say the quiet part out loud.

Child abuse doesn’t just happen in the home. It happens in classrooms where teachers misuse authority. In churches where “discipline” is weaponized. In sports programs where adults confuse control with coaching. In friend groups where older kids exploit younger ones. And in any space where a child’s safety depends on an adult’s integrity, and that integrity fails.

Let me say this in the clearest way I know how. And  coming from someone who personally knows a little something on this topic, what happened to you was abuse. And it was a betrayal of power. Schools and other places are supposed to be safe. Adults in those buildings are supposed to protect children. You were not protected. And when abuse happens in a place that claims to be safe, the damage hits on multiple layers at once. It’s not just the act itself. It’s the collapse of every structure that was supposed to shield you.

You were a child. They were adults. The responsibilities were never equal. The conflict you still feel between “their job” and “your role” is a direct result of their failure, not yours. The tactics you endured weren’t just harmful. They were calculated. “Diabolical” would be the right word. The cruelty, the gaslighting, the public humiliation? These are methods designed to break a person’s sense of reality and self‑worth. Many adults would crumble under that kind of psychological warfare. Expecting a child to withstand it is unthinkable. And, yet, if you’re reading this, you did. Not because you should have had to. Not because you were equipped for it. But because you had no choice. That’s not resilience by choice. That’s survival by necessity.

Here are a few sources you might want to dive into.

1. Most child abuse is never reported (all types)

U.S. Department of Justice – Bureau of Justice Statistics“86% of child abuse cases are never reported to authorities.” 🔗 https://bjs.ojp.gov/content/pub/pdf/cv22.pdf (bjs.ojp.gov in Bing) (See section on underreporting of violent crime against children.)

2. Children often disclose abuse but are ignored or silenced

Health & Social Care in the Community (2025) Study on child maltreatment disclosures found that children frequently disclose abuse (physical, emotional, sexual, neglect) but are ignored, dismissed, or punished by adults. 🔗 https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/hsc.14336(onlinelibrary.wiley.com in Bing)

3. Delayed disclosure is common across ALL abuse types

CHILD USA – National Think Tank for Child ProtectionOver 70% of victims delay disclosure for at least five years, regardless of abuse type. 🔗 https://childusa.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/Delayed-Disclosure-Report.pdf(childusa.org in Bing)

4. Institutional betrayal: schools, churches, programs often ignore reports

Journal of Child Sexual Abuse (applies to institutional responses across all abuse types) Shows that institutions frequently dismiss, minimize, or cover up reports of abuse.🔗 https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10538712.2019.1570402 (tandfonline.com in Bing)

Note: While this journal focuses on sexual abuse, the institutional‑betrayal patterns. It’s documents are identical across physical, emotional, and psychological abuse.

5. Teachers and school staff rarely report abuse, even when required by law

U.S. Department of Education Report Only 11% of school personnel who witness or suspect abuse report it. 🔗 https://www2.ed.gov/rschstat/research/pubs/misconductreview/report.pdf (www2.ed.gov in Bing)

6. Children who report abuse are often disbelieved or blamed

National Institute of Justice – Child Abuse Disclosure Research Children frequently disclose abuse but face denial, minimization, or retaliation from adults. 🔗 https://nij.ojp.gov/topics/articles/child-abuse-disclosure-what-research-tells-us (nij.ojp.gov in Bing)

The wound you carry makes sense. Trauma doesn’t fade just because time passes. It imprints itself. It becomes a landmark in the psyche. And  something you walk around, navigate, and learn to live beside. Therapy can help you understand it. But it can’t erase the fact that it happened. And that it shouldn’t have happened. The gaslighting you endured stole something fundamental. Your ability to trust your own perception.

When adults deny a child’s reality, the child learns to doubt themselves. When they shame a child publicly, the child learns their existence is a problem. When adults ignore a child’s cries for help, the child learns that safety is conditional or imaginary. That’s not a child “being dramatic.” That’s a child being abandoned. And then abandonment by the very people who were supposed to protect you happened. The people you trusted were identified as educators, authority figures,  and other adults in power. And that leaves a wound that is both emotional and existential. You were trapped. And that was not your fault.

A child cannot escape a system built around them. A child cannot “just tell someone” when the people they’re supposed to tell are the ones causing the harm or ignoring it. A child cannot “make better choices” when every direction is blocked. You survived in the only ways available to you. Your mind did what it had to do. Your body did what it had to do. Your spirit did what it had to do. Survival is not shameful. Survival is not weak. Survival is not something you owe anyone an explanation for.

 And the fact of the matter is that THE FAILURE WAS THEIRS. NOT YOURS. You were a child. They were adults. They had power. You had none. The responsibility was theirs. The consequences were yours. And that imbalance is the injustice you’re naming. What you lived through would have broken many adults. The fact that you’re here speaking and naming it is refusing to let it stay buried. And that is strength. Even if it doesn’t feel like it. Thanks for reading! And do your part to help protect our children.

Affirmation: “I honor the child who survived what no child should face. I am not defined by what was done to me. I am defined by the courage it takes to speak it.”

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife

darnold1975

Self‑Harm Awareness Month: Where Growth Happens and My Nervous System Tries Its Best

“I didn’t choose the healing journey. The healing journey chose, dragged me and asked for gas money.”

-Unknown

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. It’s Self‑Harm Awareness Month, and if there’s one thing this month teaches us, it’s that healing is messy, sacred, and occasionally accompanied by a cat sitting on your chest like a furry emotional support paperweight.

Self‑harm is one of those topics people whisper about like it’s Voldemort, taxes, or the time they accidentally liked their ex’s Instagram post from 2014. But here? We talk about it with honesty, compassion, and the kind of humor that keeps us from spontaneously combusting. Self‑harm isn’t about attention. It’s about pain. And the people who say otherwise are usually the same ones who think essential oils can cure a broken femur.

Self‑harm doesn’t happen because someone is weak. It happens because someone is overwhelmed, hurting, or trying to survive emotions that feel too big for one body. It’s a coping mechanism. Not a character flaw. But the world loves to misunderstand what it doesn’t want to deal with. People will say things like, “Just think positive!,” “Have you tried yoga?,” “My cousin’s neighbor’s dog used to feel sad too.” Ma’am. Self‑harm is not cured by downward dog or inspirational throw pillows.

Let’s look at how the addiction occurs. The brain notices that shift and files it under: “This worked.” Not because it’s healthy. However, because it changed the emotional state quickly. The body reinforces it by sending a rush of endorphins, adrenaline, and dopamine. These chemicals temporarily reduce emotional pain or numbness. That relief, even if brief, can make the brain want to repeat the behavior. This is the same reinforcement loop seen in many addictions. Next, the cycle becomes automatic. And with overtime urgency , the brain starts linking stress → self‑harm, numbness → self‑harm, shame → self‑harm, and emotional overload → self‑harm. It becomes a reflex. A pattern, not a personality trait. A survival strategy, not a moral failing. And then shame strengthens the cycle. People who self‑harm often feel guilt, embarrassment, fear of being judged, or the pressure to hide. Those feelings can increase emotional distress. Which can then trigger the urge again. It becomes a loop that’s incredibly hard to break alone. And finally, it’s not about wanting to die. For many people, self‑harm is about wanting to feel something, wanting to feel less, wanting control, wanting relief, and wanting the emotional noise to stop. It’s a coping mechanism that becomes addictive because the pain underneath it is overwhelming. People don’t heal because they’re scolded. They heal because they’re understood.

What does help? Why don’t you try some compassion, support, safe conversations, professional care, people who don’t minimize your pain, and a community that refuses to let shame win. Some days you glide. Some days you wobble. Some days you crash into a display of discounted cereal and pretend it was part of your spiritual journey. Healing is allowed to be imperfect. You are allowed to be imperfect. You are allowed to take up space while you figure things out. “Keep going. Rest when you need to. And stop carrying pain alone.” You deserve support. You deserve compassion. You deserve to be here. And you deserve to heal without shame breathing down your neck like a judgmental church lady.

Self‑Harm Awareness Month isn’t about fear. It’s about understanding. It’s about breaking silence. It’s about reminding people they’re not alone. Not now, not ever. So, here’s to choosing growth even when it feels like a group project we didn’t sign up for, choosing compassion even when our patience is on backorder, choosing to stay when our brains are acting like and the whole system is like, “Ma’am, I was not built for this.”

Then light your sage, drink your water, moisturize your spirit, and strut into the rest of the month like a woman who has survived every plot twist life has thrown at her. Including the ones that arrived unannounced, barefoot, and holding a casserole of chaos. Because you’re still here. You’re still growing. And honestly? You’re doing better than half the people who think essential oils are a personality. 

And as we wrap up this emotional rollercoaster of a topic, complete with sage smoke, hydration, and my nervous system acting like it’s auditioning for a disaster movie. It is like trying to assemble IKEA furniture with no instructions, three missing screws, and a mysterious extra piece that definitely wasn’t in the box. I’ve also realized something important. And it is that healing is basically like trying to reboot a Wi‑Fi router from 2007. You unplug it, you wait, you pray, you bargain, you threaten it, you light a candle, and somehow it still blinks at you like, “Girl, I’m doing my best.” Same, router. 

Here’s to all of us out here choosing growth even when our brains are running on 3% battery. Choosing compassion even when our patience is on backorder. And choosing to keep going even when life feels like a Walmart parking lot at 2 a.m. You’re doing your best, you’re sweating, you’re questioning your life choices, and at some point you whisper, “If this thing collapses, I’m blaming Sweden.” Thanks for reading and remember, Healing is holy, humor is medicine, and you are too stubborn to give up now. But you keep going. Because that’s what we do. And if anyone tries to judge your healing journey, just smile sweetly and say, “Sweetheart, I’m busy becoming emotionally stable. I don’t have the bandwidth for your nonsense.” Thanks for reading! Get educated.

Affirmation: I honor my healing by choosing compassion over shame, boundaries over chaos, and growth over the nonsense that used to break me.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife

darnold1975

Fall and Family

“Sometimes the goal is to just survive, and the memories are a bonus.”

-Unknown

 Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about the holidays and family. Don’t worry. It also gives me gas at the thought of the two, once again, colliding.

This should be a happy time for most of us. However, especially in our current political climate, I would venture to say that the thought of interacting with family members who stand on the opposite of the isle makes me want to step out into oncoming traffic. So, this year, I’ll be spending most of my holiday time with the only ones that seem trustworthy, my boys and my cats.

My cats could care less about what the current political environment is like. And they also don’t care whether I’m straight or gay. And unlike some of my family members, all they want to do is spend every waking hour with me. With all of my quirkiness, they just seem to keep scrolling as none of that matters to them.

My boys and I will spend time together during their school break. Activities include burning leaves and wood at the fire pit, roasting wieners and marshmallows, and cuddling in the cool night air while talking about the newest and most concerning issues of being a child. And I will, more than likely, be pummeled by nerf gun bullets sometime during their stay.

We never have enough money to do everything that we want to do. But what we do have is each other. They devour every bit of food available. And at the end of the day, they are my children, and I am their mom. The cats are their sisters. There is absolutely nothing that can compare to that.

By the end of their stay, the cats are tired of being nice and the boys are tired of being nice to each other. And I am, once again, interested in a little bit of quiet time. No matter how tired and irritated we can get, me and the boys experience the true meaning of family. And that’s what it’s all supposed to be about. Not judging someone for who they are versus who they are not. Thanks for reading! And enjoy your time with family in whatever way that takes shape.

Affirmation: I will approach this holiday with the same calm wisdom I use to navigate family debates over the thermostat.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Types of Domestic Violence

“If you aren’t silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.”

-Zora Neale Hurston

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about some of the behaviors that fit under the umbrella of domestic violence. It wasn’t until I  was out of the relationship for a while before I began to see  information validating  what I always knew. This is not comprehensive list by any means. 

COERCIVE CONTROL OR CONTROLLING BEHAVIOR

·        Control who a person sees, wears and where they go. 

v  This was considered normal in my relationship. He dictated everything that I wore. If I chose what I wanted to wear, he would tell me to,  “go change. You look ridiculous.” And I was afraid to go somewhere without asking his permission.

·        Monitor or track what a person does. 

v  This was also something that was done on a daily  basis. He would call me wherever I was supposed to be and verify it by employees.

·        Control a person’s finances, medicine, food, or exercise.

v  He always told me that I was not allowed food that he didn’t approve. And I was required to be at the gym at 5:30 am every morning. And he would call and speak with those employees about what type of exercise I was doing. I was also not allowed to spend any money without permission.

·        Force someone to have sex or do sexual things.

v  I was never given the option to make that choice. I was threatened if I even spoke about that.

PHYSICAL VIOLENCE

·        Hitting, punching, kicking, bashing, shoving, or pushing.

This happened more times than I can count. He did kick me in the face. But when he and his brother teamed up together, it was worse. The main reason is because my husband didn’t want to say that he participated. And because they always threatened and intimidated me into silence, I never said anything. His brother was his “yes man.” And my husband pulled the strings.

·        Spitting on someone or pulling hair.

·        Choking or suffocating.

v  This typically happened during forced sex. Or whenever his brother would get mad at me, he would choke me as a form of intimidation.

·        Throwing things at or near someone.

·        Using a weapon.

v  This was always pointed at me or laid out somewhere as a form of threats and intimidation.

·        Locking someone in or out of space.

v  This was often done to show control.

·        Stopping someone from eating, sleeping, or having medication they need.

v  Every piece of food had to be given an account. One of his favorite things he would allow me to have for a snack was ten olives and ten pistachios. He would come home from work and completely berate me if I weren’t already up. And it didn’t matter that I had just worked a 24-48 shift. He always told me that medication was a crutch. He got mad because I had been given muscle relaxers for a hurt back and proceeded to kick me in the face and throw my medication out into the rain. I was also not allowed to take any psychiatric meds for depression or mood stabilization because, “why do you need anti-depressants when I’m so good to you? And what if someone finds out that you’re taking this? I don’t want anyone knowing that my wife is crazy. Then it makes me look bad. Why don’t you care about that?”

·        Forcing someone to drink or take drugs.

v  I did this on my own to help deal with being under his crazy world of control.

SEXUAL VIOLENCE

·       Touching or kissing someone without their consent.

v I was made to accept his advances. 

·       Pressuring or forcing someone to have sex or do something sexual without their consent.

v  I was told, “Either you give it to me, or I’ll take it. Either way, I’m getting what I want. Make your decision.” Many times, I was bruised or bleeding by the time he was done with me. I had no voice in any matter. He was the “warden,” and I was his “prisoner.” My whole sexual relationship with him was simply RAPE.

·       Pressuring or forcing someone to have sex without protection such as a condom.

v I was told early on, “I’m not using protection because it burns my dick. If you really loved me, you wouldn’t  put stipulations on how I fuck you.”

*I know this is explicit. However, I want you to get an accurate description of the situation.*

IMAGE-BASED ABUSE

·        Sharing private images of a person without their consent, for example images of them undressing or showering.

·        Sharing culturally inappropriate images of a person, for example images in which they do not wear items of clothing that they would normally wear in public.

·        Sharing intimate or sexualized images of a person without their consent.

·        Producing and sharing images that have been digitally altered to suggest a person is nude or engaged in sexual activity.

·        Threatening to do any of these things.

        *I found out later on that his brother would secretly be filming or watching us having sex.*

EMOTIONAL OR PSYCHOLOGICAL ABUSE

·        Criticizing a person and their choices or actions.

v  In his mind, he thought that I was too stupid to make decisions that were considered “correct.” All he ever told me what how stupid and retarded I was.

·        Isolating a person form their friends or their family.

v  Some friendships I lost forever because they just thought that I abandoned them. What they failed to see was that I would get accused of all kinds of stuff if I disobeyed him. Those who have never been in an abusive situation can’t comprehend losing your power to stand up for yourself. It was just easier to do what he said. Some former friends haven’t even talked to me since that time. And that is about them not me.

·        Threatening to harm a person, their family, their friends, their pets, or their belongings.

v  He always made threats about things he would and could do with keepsakes or my innocent animals. And if he and his brother didn’t feel that I was getting the picture, they would show up at my parents’ house and start harassing them.

·        Threating them to share personal or private information, such as sexuality, gender identity, personal health, or visa status (https://www.act.gov.au/community/domestic-family-and-sexual-violence/types-of-domestic-and-family-violence, 2025).

This topic will be spread over a few blogs. As you can see, when I add personal experience, the blog gets much longer. Stay patient and learn from this. It’s a hell that most people can’t understand. And I’m telling you that it’s all true. I was living in a prison without visible bars. Thanks for reading! And watch for the second part in the coming days.

Affirmation: I remember that it is ok to ask for help and receive support.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

National Domestic Violence Awareness Month

“Never stop fighting for your freedom, you are worth it.”

-DA Survivor-Anon

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negativity energy, go away. Today is the beginning of Domestic Violence Awareness Month. This month is when our voices from all over the globe will be heard. We as victims, survivors and warriors bring to light the horrors of domestic violence and the impact that it leaves on our lives and those around us. Let’s take time out for a little education on a few of the topics surrounding domestic violence.

Domestic Violence is a topic that I know a lot about. Well, I know how to function in it. And I know how to get away from it. But living with the aftereffects reveal a whole other set of problems. Where domestic violence used to be seen as something that only happens to women and their partners. There is more awareness on the abuse of men by their partners. No matter how you identify. It also happens to the most innocent, children and pets. This happens in all forms of relationships. And the statistics are staggering.

Domestic violence is violence committed by someone in the victim’s domestic circle. Which include partners and ex-partners, immediate family members, and other relatives and family friends (https://www.UN.org, 2025). The behaviors can include such things as:

·        Physical

·        Sexual

·        Emotional

·        Financial

·        Psychological actions or threats of actions that influence another person.

This includes any behavior that intimidate, manipulate, humiliate, isolate, frighten, terrorize, coerce, threaten, blame, hurt, injure, or wound someone. The repetitive exposure to violence teaches children that violence is a normal way of life (https://dvcc.delaware.gov, 2025). And for those of us who leave, constant confusion and every minute of no knowing when something else will happen again, is our normal. And the many years of programming by our abusers takes years of therapy to de-program ourselves. But you will never be who you used to be.

Recovery is not for the faint of heart. It is hard and uncomfortable. And it takes years to undo the damage that was caused on so many levels. I was one of the lucky ones. Long story short, I survived. But the mental damage that was caused has left me crippled in some ways. And through the sleepless nights filled with tears, therapy, psychiatric medications, body memories, flashbacks, phobias, and panic attacks, I have learned that I have a voice that deserves to be heard. And no matter what people say or believe, I can validate my own story regardless of the opinions of others. Because I lived it. 

The main thing I want to say to other women and men across the globe who are still in their own processes, “YOU ARE NOT ALONE!” Because it happened to me too. Thanks for reading! Keep smiling and pushing forward.

Affirmation: My light shines even in the dark.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

SUICDE AWARENESS AND PREVENTION GROUPS PART 2

“I had gotten to the point where I was suicidal every day for six straight years…On that day, I made a choice. The choice to live, the choice to get better for me.”

-Justin

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, go away. Today, I want to tell you about a couple more suicide awareness and prevention groups. I wish I could cover them all. Unfortunately, there are just way too many. Please familiarize yourself and those you love and are affected.

Stop Soldier Suicide 

This is the only national nonprofit focused on solving the issue of suicide among U.S. veterans and service members. They have an aggressive goal of reducing the suicide rate by 40% by 2030. Veterans are at a 58% higher risk of suicide than those who haven’t served.

Other statistics about veteran suicide:

·       6,407 veteran suicides in 2022.

·       22 consecutive years with 6000+ veteran suicides.

·       140K+ veterans have died by suicide since 2001.

·       Second leading cause of death in veterans under age 45.

·       The rate of veteran firearm suicide has increased by 65%.

·       The suicide rate among veterans ages 18-34 has more than doubled.

·       Western states have experienced the greatest increase in veteran suicide rate, increasing by 55%.

·       31% Depending on branch, up to 31% of service members develop PTSD after returning from combat.

·       7x the rated of suicide for veterans in the LGBTQ+ community is up 7x higher that for non-LGBTQ+ veterans.

The organization’s impact on veteran suicide.

·       90%+ of our most at-risk clients completed a crisis response plan in 2023, giving them tools and resources to cope in moments of crisis.

·       73% of clients experienced a decrease in thoughts of suicide over the course of treatment.

·       92% of clients who were meaningfully engaged in our care showed some improvement in mental wellbeing by the end of treatment (www.stopsoldiersuicide.org, 2025).

The Trevor Project

The Trevor Project was founded in August 1998 by the creators, James Lecesne, Peggy Rajski, and Randy Stone, of the Academy Award-winning short film “Trevor.” The film was about a gay teen who attempted suicide. The filmmakers then established a crisis hotline for LGBTQ+ youth after realizing that there was not a resource available. They have since expanded services to include text and chat support and resources for parents, schools and others seeking support for LGBTQ+ support (https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov, 2025).

Crisis Services: Providing counseling support services for LGBTQ+ young people 24/7 all year around.

Peer Support: Providing  an affirming international community for LGBTQ+ youth.

Advocacy: Working to change hearts, minds, and laws in support of LGBTQ+ lives.

Research: We conduct research studies to equip policymakers and other LGBTQ+ youth providing professionals.

The Mission

To end suicide among LGBTQ+ youth by providing crisis support, suicide prevention resources, and educational programs (www.thetrevorproject.org, 2025).

Thanks again for reading. The more education and resources we can provide each other with, the better the outcomes for us all. Please pass this information along to anyone who could benefit. I am one of those who suicide has affected my life in epic proportions. I am also one who continues to fight for understanding and compassion in a world that is lacking.

Affirmation: I am not alone, and others care about me.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

LGBTQ+ And Suicide

“Our country is grappling with a youth mental health crisis, and it is particularly pronounced for LGBTQ+ youth.”

-Ronita Nath

 Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, go away. Today, keeping in line with the topic of suicide, I want to discuss suicide in the LGBTQ+ community. 

The prevalence of suicide in the LGBTQ+ community is nothing new. The risk for suicide attempts and suicidal ideation can be 3 to 6 times greater for lesbian, gay and bisexual adults according to the National Institutes of Health. But there are also other statistics to keep in mind.

In 2024, 39% of LGBTQ+ youth considered attempting suicide according to The Trevor Project’s national survey. 1 in 10 of LGBTQ+ youth attempted suicide in the past year. And LGBTQ+ youth are more than four times likely to attempt compared to heterosexual youth. I can tell you that personally, I’ve been suicidal many times because of rejection from my family as a lesbian woman.

Transgender and Nonbinary identified individuals are at an even higher rate of suicide. And almost half seriously considered suicide in the past year. In 2022, 80% of transgender people had considered suicide and 40% had attempted. These statistics while staggering are not surprising. These demographic struggles are way more than they should be with little compassion from society.

Bisexual identified individuals are 1.5 times more likely to report thoughts and attempts compared to gay and lesbian individuals. And 2.98 times more likely to have  a suicide-related event compared to heterosexuals according to a 2022 study. And  the LGBTQ+ youth of color report higher rates of suicidal ideation and attempts compared to white peers (www.therevorproject.org, 2025). And there are several contributing factors such as:

·        Discrimination and Prejudice:discrimination, harassment and violence due to sexual orientation or gender identity increases the risk of suicide.

·        Lack of Support Systems: Limited social support from family, peers and community exacerbates the mental health challenges. 

·        Mental Health Disparities: LGBTQ+ individuals are more likely to experience depression and may face barriers to accessing mental health services (https://mhanational.org, 2025).

For someone who is a member of the LGBTQ+ community, I can tell you that I’ve considered suicide many times. The rejection from family and friends are sometimes more than I can bare. And having worked with someone in therapy many years ago, who was not sensitive to the needs of someone in these communities, there was little progress made. Mainly, because I couldn’t trust her. And she was extremely judgmental.

Since collaborating with coach for almost a decade, I can tell you that I have been able to fully accept the fact that I’m gay, despite my family’s disapproval. And then the religious communities also seem to greet us with bible verses telling how many ways we are going to hell. We all know that “choosing” to be gay is such an easier way of life. There the secret is out. 

With the current political administration taking away the rights and freedoms that the Stonewall riots stood against, and the lack of funding for suicide hotlines for LGBTQ+ youth, these rates will only climb. Our families, friends, churches, and government should be ashamed of standing by people who are ok with the policies set in place. We are the same as we ever were. We just wear rainbows now. 

There are those beautiful allies out there who remain the strength and backbone of our continual fight for equality. We are youth, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, husband, and wives who just want to be recognized as equals in the eyes of the law. But where reputations and political agendas are from the far right, we must be even more solidified as a community. If someone is for rights with some and not others, I have no room for them in my life. But it’s taken me years to come to this conclusion. 

Is it lonely? At times, yes. However, I want people in my life who not only support me but also my friends. The suicide hotline is something that our community not only wants but needs. Many of us have non-supporting families and mine is no different. But I do have a place to live currently. But that does not constitute me putting up with homophobia or fragile masculinity and femininity.

The very few “true” friends I have, understand that being gay is not a “choice.” It’s who I am. And if that’s too much for someone to manage, that’s just too damn bad. To my fellow allies and community members, keep up the good fight. We must take up the original Pride flag are carry on. I love our colors. And I’m proud to call myself a member of the LGBTQ+ community.

Keep smiling. Keep shining. Knowing you can always count on me, for sure. That’s what friends are for. We are seen. And we are heard. And….WE ARE FABULOUS! Thanks for reading. Take what you can use and leave the rest.

Affirmation: I am proud of myself and will continue to strive to do well.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife