parenting boys

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

Happy Birthday, Copeland: The Preemie Who Became A Full-Sized Chaos Grenade

“From NICU royalty to Dollar Tree whistleblower. This child has never once entered a room quietly.”

-This Puzzled Life

 Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Today we honor the boy who arrived early. Stayed tiny. Scared the hell out of two moms. And then grew into an 11‑year‑old whose armpits now smell like a possum that lost a custody battle with a dumpster. Let me take y’all back.

Two moms. One hospital. One baby who looked at the world, shrugged, and said, “Yeah I’m not ready for all that. Y’all go on home without me.” We were terrified. We were exhausted. We were Googling things like “Can a baby be this small and still have an attitude?” And Copeland? He was in his little NICU throne like, “Bring me my warm lights and my beeping machines. I shall join the household when I am good and ready.”

Fast‑forward 11 years. This once‑delicate, fragile, tiny miracle now smells, at times, worse than the up‑the‑back diaper blowouts that used to make me question my will to live. And I say that with love. And trauma. And a gag reflex that still twitches when he walks by after baseball practice.

Copeland is funny. Not “ha-ha cute kid funny.” No. He is feral‑comedian funny. He is Dollar Tree Public Announcement funny. This is the same child who once let the entire store know his momma farted with gusto. And not only did he announce it. He narrated it like a nature documentary. He said, “This is the sound of a mother releasing her soul into the wild.”

He keeps me on my toes. He keeps me humble. He keeps me praying. We make primitive tools together like we’re auditioning for Naked and Afraid: Mississippi Edition. We shoot fireworks like two people who absolutely should not be trusted with fire. We have Nerf gun wars that end with me questioning my cardio and my life choices. We play baseball. Where he hits the ball like he’s trying to send it back to the NICU to apologize for the stress he caused.

And then. There is his special talent. The one he inherited from the diaper‑blowout era. The one he wields with pride. Farting on my leg while sitting in my lap. He does it. He waits. He watches my face. He studies the gag. He cherishes the moment. It is his art. His calling. His legacy. And honestly? It’s poetic justice. Because I gagged changing his diapers. And now he gags me recreationally.

But beneath the chaos, the comedy, the bodily functions, the Dollar Tree humiliation, the fireworks, the Nerf ambushes, and the prehistoric tool‑making. There is this boy. This beautiful, bright‑souled, hilarious, life‑loving boy who laughs like the world is a gift. And loves like he’s never known fear.

His joy is loud. His spirit is huge. His light is blinding in the best way. And I hope, with every fiber of my momma heart, that nothing in this world ever dims that light. Because I am lucky. So damn lucky. To be one of his three moms. To watch him grow. To watch him shine. To watch him fart and then blame me in public.

Happy Birthday, Copeland. You came into this world early, tiny, fragile, and already acting like you had a contract with the NICU. Two moms stood there terrified. Praying. Bargaining. Googling. And trying not to fall apart while you lounged under warm lights like a miniature king who simply wasn’t ready to clock into Earth yet. You were the baby we had to leave behind. The one who taught us that love can be fierce and terrified at the same time. The one who showed us that miracles don’t always arrive on schedule. Sometimes they show up early and demand special lighting.

And now? Now you are 11 years old and built like a walking plot twist. You are loud. You are wild. You are funny in a way that feels spiritually assigned. You smell like puberty is trying to take you out. You fart with the confidence of a grown man who pays property taxes. You love life like it’s a buffet. And you’re first in line. You laugh like joy is your native tongue.

You are the child who will announce to an entire Dollar Tree that your momma farted with gusto. And then take a bow like you just delivered a TED Talk. You are the child who will sit in my lap. Rip one on my leg. And watch my soul leave my body like you’re studying the effects for a science fair project. You are the child who builds primitive tools with me like we’re preparing for the apocalypse. Shoots fireworks like we’re trying to get banned from the county. And plays baseball like you’re sending the ball back to the NICU to say, “Look at me now.”

You are chaos wrapped in kindness. Mischief wrapped in magic. Humor wrapped in heart. A miracle wrapped in a boy who somehow manages to be both my greatest joy and my greatest olfactory challenge.

And I hope, with everything in me, that nothing ever dims your light. Not fear. Not doubt. Not the world. Not the noise. Not the storms. Not the shadows. Not even the puberty funk that is currently trying to overthrow your household. Because your light is rare. Your joy is rare. Your spirit is rare. And the world needs every bit of it.

I am lucky to be one of your three moms. Lucky to witness your life. Lucky to survive your smells. Lucky to be chosen by a boy who once fit in the palm of my hand. And now fills entire rooms with laughter, love, and the occasional biological weapon.

So, here’s to you, Copeland. To the preemie who became a powerhouse. To the NICU baby who became a legend. To the tiny fighter who became the funniest, wildest, brightest soul I’ve ever known.

May your life stay loud. May your joy stay reckless. May your heart stay open. May your spirit stay unbreakable. And may your farts, just once, miss my leg. Happy Birthday, my boy. You are the story I’ll never stop telling. And the punchline I’ll never stop laughing at. Thanks for reading!

Affirmation: I honor the chaos, comedy, the cosmic joy of raising a boy whose spirit is brighter than his armpits are deadly. I am blessed. Chosen. And fully equipped to mother this miracle with humor, grit, and Febreze.

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

#ThisPuzzledLife

https://suno.com/s/BWb1eV0x632d8rYi

darnold1975

When Purity Culture Protects Predators: The Duggar Edition

“If your righteousness collapses the moment accountability arrives, it was never righteousness. It was camouflage.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Today we’re grilling up a fresh batch of religious hypocrisy “Duggar‑style.” That special brand of “family values” where the skirts are long. The hair is crunchy. And the list of sex crimes is longer than the Old Testament. You’d think a family with 19 kids and a camera crew would’ve spent at least five minutes teaching their sons that maybe the real sin isn’t masturbation. It’s molesting children. But no. No, no, no. The Duggar doctrine has always been, “Touching yourself is evil. But touching your sisters? Well, let’s pray about it.”

And now here we are again. Another Duggar son, this time Joseph. Has been making headlines for the same nightmare behavior that already sent Josh Duggar, his brother, to prison. After Josh was found guilty of possessing child sexual abuse material and sentenced in 2022. A family tree so rotten it’s practically compost. And the wildest part? These aren’t drag queens. These aren’t queer folks. These aren’t immigrants. These aren’t the people conservative Christians love to foam at the mouth about. Nope. It’s straight, white, right‑wing, Bible‑thumping men. Yet again, harming children while preaching purity like they invented it.

Meanwhile the kids they violated? They’re left with trauma that doesn’t get a sentence reduction. A parole hearing. Or early release for “good behavior.” They carry it forever. In their bodies. In their nervous systems. In the quiet moments nobody else sees. But sure. Tell me again how queer people are the threat? Tell me again how trans folks using the bathroom is the downfall of civilization? Tell me again how cannabis is the devil’s lettuce while your sons are out here committing crimes that shatter childhoods?

At this point, the Duggar brand of Christianity is so tainted it needs a hazmat label. Everything they’ve preached about morality, purity, and righteousness has evaporated like holy water on a hot skillet. Their “faith” isn’t faith. It’s a costume. A prop. A shield for predators who hide behind scripture while desecrating everything it claims to stand for.

And the saddest part? There are still people who will defend them. Still people who will twist themselves into theological pretzels to excuse the inexcusable. Still people who will say, “Well, nobody’s perfect.” As if imperfection and predation are the same category. They aren’t. They never will be. Some things are unforgivable. Some things stain a soul so deeply that no amount of prayer, repentance, or PR spin can scrub it clean.

And if the most powerful seat in the nation can be held by someone repeatedly accused of harming women and children, it’s no wonder his supporters think this behavior is normal. It’s no wonder they defend it. It’s no wonder they minimize it. When your leader models entitlement, cruelty, and moral decay, the flock follows.

And here’s the part nobody in their starched‑collar, Bible‑thumping echo chamber wants to hear. The one they can’t sermonize away. Children deserve safety. Children deserve protection. Children deserve a world where their bodies are not battlegrounds for someone else’s power, lust, or theology. And anyone who violates that? Anyone who destroys a child’s sense of safety? Anyone who weaponizes religion to excuse it? They’ve forfeited the right to be seen as righteous. They’ve forfeited the right to be believed. They’ve forfeited the right to preach about morality ever again.

If your faith can’t protect children from your own men, it’s not faith. It’s a cover‑up with a choir. You don’t get to preach purity while you and your sons are out here shattering childhoods. You don’t get to weaponize scripture against queer folks. While ignoring the predators in your own pews. You don’t get to call yourselves “God’s chosen family.” When the only thing you’ve consistently produced is trauma, denial, and a PR team working overtime.

Because the truth is simple. If your faith collapses the moment accountability walks into the room, it was a costume stitched together with shame, silence, and selective morality. And the children you failed? They will grow up carrying scars your sermons can’t erase. They will spend years rebuilding safety you stole. They will learn to trust themselves again in a world you taught them was dangerous. When the danger was sitting at your own dinner table.

Meanwhile, the men who harmed them will keep hiding behind the same religion they desecrated. Counting on the same community that protected them. And quoting the same verses they never lived by. Truth doesn’t care about your reputation. It doesn’t care about your brand. It doesn’t care about your “family values” photo ops. It shows up loud, uninvited, and holding receipts.

And once it arrives, there’s no going back. No amount of prayer circles, modesty lectures, or “thoughts and prayers” statements can un‑rot a tree that’s been diseased from the roots. So let the world take note. It wasn’t drag queens. It wasn’t trans folks. It wasn’t immigrants. It wasn’t the communities you demonize. It was your own men. Again. And again. And again.

And if that truth makes your theology crumble? Good. Let it fall. Let it burn. Let it clear the ground for something that actually protects children instead of protecting predators. Because at the end of the day, the only thing more dangerous than a man who harms children, is a community that refuses to hold him accountable. And if your religion can’t tell the difference between righteousness and abuse, then it’s not holy. It’s a hiding place. Thanks for reading! And do your part to protect our children.

Affirmation: I honor truth. Protect the vulnerable. And refuse to let anyone hide abuse behind faith, power, or fear.

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

#ThisPuzzledLife

darnold1975

Happy Birthday, Marshall!

“Sons are the anchors of a mother’s life.”

-Sophocles

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today is a very special day. It’s my oldest son, Marshall, birthday. Fourteen years ago today, after thirty-six hours of labor, Marshall made his entrance into the world. I will say with confidence that I was NOT the one who gave birth. And from that moment, my life was, once again, forever changed.

Our dreams as parents became a reality when our little preemie boy entered the world. And, boy, did he make the sun shine brighter that day. Within moments, we went from sleeping late anytime we wanted to, to now being very protective of this little boy who would call us moms. And now there was a little being that we would literally sacrifice everything for.

Our beautiful little boy name, Marshall Lake Landrum-Arnold, would struggle at the beginning of his life just trying to maintain his own body temperature and learning how to eat and put healthy weight on his tiny, little body. That first year was not easy by any means. And I speak for myself when I say that I was so happy that he arrived. But I was terrified of now being responsible for raising him to adulthood. And I was scared that I would not be enough.

His health scares and concerns were extremely stressful for us as a new family. And for once, I knew what it felt like to be completely helpless and not be able to “quick fix” a situation. But I finally understood the mysterious love between a parent and a child. This little boy, I knew, would change the world even if it was for two lesbian moms.

It has been the most frustrating, difficult, and rewarding job that I never thought possible. Now, fourteen years later, our little preemie is in the throws of puberty. He has a deep voice, peach fuzz, and an almost never-ending attitude. And first thing every morning he hisses and has the most ruthless cause of “bedhead” that I’ve ever seen. But he’s still my little boy.

He was beautiful the moment he entered the world. And he’s still beautiful now. He is the smartest and most caring boy that still loves to hang out with momma and laugh. Now it’s not wanting a bottle and a nap. It’s video games, nerf guns, weird music, a voracious appetite, band practice, books, and a mood swing that is constantly going back and forth. But he’s still my little boy.

We don’t live together now, but he always lives within me. From the moment I wake up until the moment I go to sleep, my thoughts always hold in the recesses of my mind, the many fears of  being a parent. You can have many children, but there is only one first born. And as a first born myself, I try to impress upon him the importance about his role as a big brother. He has dreams and aspirations that I watch change sometimes daily.

Happy Birthday to you my beautiful boy! I look forward to many more years of watching you develop and become a man. While also knowing that three moms can raise a son without a man successfully. I love you more than life. And I thank you for making me a mom and changing my life. I will continue to love you unconditionally no matter what path in life you take. Because the sky is the limit for you. Hug your children because they won’t be babies for very long. Thanks for reading!

 Affirmation: My voice matters.

***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

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

darnold1975

What Are The Streets Saying? Inhalants

“The National Institute on Drug Abuse states, “The brain of a chronic toluene abuser is smaller compared to someone with no history of inhalant abuse.”

-Neil Rosenberg, M.D., NIDA Research Report

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negativity energy, go away. Today, I want to discuss something that many teenagers experiment with, inhalants. Abusing inhalants isn’t a new thing. As it was very popular 35 years ago. And when you’re a kid without access to money, getting “high” is just a short walk away to the family utility shed. I’ll give you some facts. And then I’ll tell my story.

First, let me describe what “huffing” is even though it’s self-explanatory. Huffing is the act of inhaling chemical vapors from common household products to get high. And it’s a dangerous form of substance abuse. Even though it might seem less risky, huffing can be even more dangerous with potentially severe and fatal consequences (https://evokewellnessoh.com, 2024).

The primary chemical in many dusters is HFC-134a, which act as propellant and refrigerant. Inhaling duster fumes can be dangerous. It can lead to serious side effects such as liver problems, breathing problems and death. Duster and other inhalants aren’t considered control substances and can be bought most anywhere.

Air dusters also contain other ingredients such as:

·        Difluoroethane can cause heart issues and loss of consciousness.

·        Nitrous Oxide can cause dizziness, vomiting and nausea.

·        Alkyl Nitrites can cause increased heart rate or vomiting.

·        Butane can affect the heart leading to sudden death.

·        Propane which can cause convulsions and loss of consciousness.

Other possible side effects are:

·        heart irregularities

·        unconsciousness

·        irritation of the nose, throat, and lungs

·        coughing

·        difficulty breathing

·        shortness of breath

·        irregular pulse

·        palpitations

·        inadequate circulation

·        abnormal kidney function

·        frostbite of the nasal cavity

·        breakdown of muscle tissue

·        liver damage

·        suffocation due to displacement of air inside the lungs

·        coma

·        convulsions

·        brain or nerve damage

·        bone marrow damage

·        choking on vomit after using an inhalant

·        sudden sniffing death, which is when a person dies suddenly after breathing in an inhalant due to cardiac arrest (https://medicalnewstoday.com, 2025).

Over a fifteen-year period, teens in the US abused more than 3,400 products through inhalation. The age range was from 6 to over 50 years old. Teen boys accounted for 73.5% of cases. Of those with known outcomes from emergency room visits, 208 died and more than 1,000 experienced life-threatening or permanent disabilities (www.poison.org, 2025).

·        More than 22.98 million Americans have abused inhalants at least once in their lifetime.

·        And over the past two decades, less than 1% of individuals aged 12 and older report past year use in 2023. 

·        Inhalants are typically used by younger adolescents, with 4% 8th graders having used in the last year. The peak age is 14 years old.

·        Inhalant abuse is less common in adults but does occur, especially among those with access to chemicals (https://www2.courtinfor.ca.gov, 2025).

·        Only 25% of inhalant abusers tested in emergency rooms had no effects. Most had serious effects or died (www.poison.org, 2025).

Toluene is a chemical found in common products including nail polish, paint thinners, adhesives. It is also used to aid in the production of benzene, other chemicals, pharmaceuticals, and dyes. Toluene can also be found in printing inks, varnishes, lacquers, and some types of glues (www.OSHA.gov, 2025).

Another product that is popular among teens, which can be bought at any “head shop” is “whip-its.” It is nitrous oxide which cuts off oxygen to the brain, creating a euphoric high that lowers mental and physical pain. And it is used to make whipped cream. Using nitrous for recreational purposes is illegal. And you can be fined or jailed for violating inhalant laws (www.webmd.com, 2025). Lock me up!

I’ll be the first to admit that “huffing” was always one of my favorite ways to get “high.” Second, only to pills. It began when I started sniffing White Out. I would cover the page with it and then roll it up and start sniffing the fumes. Same thing went for gasoline. I would put a little on a rag when I filled up with gas. And then held it to my nose and inhaled deeply. All while I was driving. I know. Safety scores are totally negative. And for many years I would quit. Always heavily involved in other types of addictions.

Once the stress of my life engulfed me while I was in undergraduate and beginning graduate school, I would start huffing again. And I found my “main squeeze” in computer duster. Mainly, because it was much cheaper than other things. I was in therapy at the time. And the stress of life and the ever-hovering PTSD symptoms had me huffing every chance I got, especially after therapy. And one day I had left therapy, grabbed my can of duster from underneath the seat and started huffing as fast as I could to get the “incorrect” EMDR effects out of my brain. And when the chemicals hit, they hit hard. Suddenly, I couldn’t figure out how to work my steering wheel. I ran up on the curb and over corrected and spun across four lanes of traffic. Luckily, there were no cars coming. I sit for a second and realized that everything was ok. Still much higher than I should’ve been to drive, I cranked my Honda CRV and headed in the direction of a potential future employer. But during my stupor I forgot to look for vehicles coming from the right as I was about to make a left turn. And the next thing I remember is hearing the horrible sound of glass breaking and a loud boom. My luck had just run out. I had inadvertently pulled out into the back wheels of an eighteen-wheeler. And for a split second I thought, “Wow! This is it. Jesus, I’m on the way!” The next thing I remember is feeling intense pain but unsure where. An ambulance picked me up from the scene. What I didn’t realize at the time was that the eighteen-wheeler had gone over the top of the cab and crashed it in. Nevertheless, I was terrified that I would be getting a DUI. But there was no way to test for an aerosol. So, I vowed to keep my mouth shut. They did do a toxicology test, but an aerosol is from the lungs not the blood. And I would live with battle wounds. I vowed to never touch that stuff again. But I would always carry that little behavior not as a first choice. But still a choice I would always have for private viewing. I thought that I was finally scared of addiction and the dark forces that surround it.

After many of doing without it while engaging in self-harm, illicit drugs, and alcohol, I would begin again while living in Texas for a couple of years. But this time, it was spray paint. They both get you “high,” however, duster can give you a very panicky “high.” If it do it too much, it becomes downright scary. To this day, I still deal with huffing. I know that it’s typically done in teenage years. But that’s when one of my biggest traumas occur day after day. And in many ways, I am still that same rebellious and very hurt teen.

If you know of someone who is “huffing,” help them stop NOW! Because years later they will look up and realize they’re an adult who’s still “huffing,” if not dead. It might seem harmless, but it’s not. I hope some of this educational material will bring more attention to a very common problem with inhalants. Thanks for reading! Take what you can use and leave the rest.

Affirmation: You are not your mistakes

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

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Piper Meets Her Brothers

“One cat might not fix all your problems…but three might.“

-@mangosnickerskiwi

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, go away. Today, I want to tell you about when Piper met her brothers, Marshall, and Copeland for the first time. Here’s how our conversation went.

Piper: “Momma?”

Me: “Yes, Piper?”

Piper: “Who are those loud boys?”

Me: “Those are your brothers.”                                      

Piper: “Well, I like them.”

Me: “So do I, baby.”

Piper: “They played with me until I couldn’t play anymore. I had to take a few “kitty naps” to keep up with them. And when they went home, I had to take a long “kitty nap.”

Me: “Oh don’t worry. So, do me and your sisters, Coco and Tinkerbell. We always take a nap when they go home.”

Piper: “Did you know that I farted in their faces?”

Me: “I think we all knew when that happened.”

Piper: “Well, Marshall was tickling my belly and then I ended upside down. So, I let it rip to get him back.”

Me: “Yea. Sometimes I do that too. But they love you very much.”

Piper: “And I love them too. You know Willow from 3 Southern Cats?”

Me: “Yes. But she recently died.”

Piper: “I know. I heard you and the boys talking about it and they were sad. Willow used to say that when she farted on something, it was hers. So technically, ya’ll are all mine.”

Me: “Well, you have a point. You have successfully farted on every one of us.”

Piper: “Yep, I’ve been secretly practicing when I go to the litterbox.”

Me: “Trust me. I has been no secret.”

Piper: “Well, I’ll keep practicing.”

Me: “I would prefer that you not practice in our laps. Only in the litterbox.”

Piper: “Well what about my sisters?”

Me: “I would prefer they do the same.”

Piper: “Ok, momma. What if I do it right in front of the fan like Tink does?”

Me: “Please don’t. I can’t take another cat like that.”

Piper: “Ok. I’ll just talk to tha Jesus about it.”

Me: “Well, he’s the only one that can handle those evil smells.”

Piper: “Dear Jesus, this is Piper again. Thank you so much for my big brothers. And you know that I’m sorry for farting on them and momma. They say that it’s evil. Is that right? If so, please remove that evilness from my belly. And please tell them to stop patting my belly. Because that’s what triggers evilness to come forth. Your humble servant, Piper. Amen.”

Me: “Very good, Piper. Now all we must do is try and survive until Jesus works his magic.”

Piper: “I love you, momma.”

Me: “I love you too, baby girl.”

Thanks again for reading. I will continue to update you on our new life with little Piper. I am happy to say that she has been officially accepted into our family begrudgingly by her sisters. And Piper is helping them get more exercise by playing with her. Keep reading. And stay connected by subscribing to our blog.

Affirmation: I deserve all the treats.

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

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

And Then There Was Piper

“Kittens are angels with whiskers.”

-Alexis Flora Hope

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, go away. Today is a special day because I brought this beautiful little girl into our family. She is the epitome of being a survivor.

I had been wanting a new kitten for over a year. And I always thought that the name Onyx would be a great name for a black cat. I looked locally and the black kittens were either feral, no veterinary care or too expensive. But then I saw the story about this litter. And I just could not seem to put it out of my mind.

The story goes like this…Someone left a litter of kittens in a concrete parking lot in a metal cage. And there were two little ones that were hanging on for dear life. I know. I want to find those people and set them on fire too. People are just a special kind of evil for doing things like that. A lady saw them as she pulled up to the store and rescued them. And went to get veterinary care. She and her family also hand fed and spent countless hours and emotions making sure those two babies made it. A month later, I my heart told me, “That little girl is the one.”

Me and the owners talked, and I realized what this special little kitten would be for me. I met up with one of the owners at a neutral place. I got the kitten’s tiny little body out of her crate while she meowed. And I melted and then lost my breath all at once. That little girl melted my heart once I saw her. I lost my breath not from her beauty but from her tiny little “murder mittens” that reached out for safety and grabbed my boob. I felt like I had just been stabbed and was clinging to life. I’m pretty sure I dissociated too. I really hope the fear in my face and the gasp from my throat wasn’t noticed.

To keep from trying to make her a black cat when she is not, I have changed her name to Piper. And from what I can tell, the name suits her simply fine. We need each other. Her sisters Tink and Coco are not grateful for her arrival currently. I am guessing that it is because neither of them wanted to share lap space or cookies. I talked to them like toddlers saying, “We do not hiss and try to bite our friends. She is a kitten. Not a crocodile. And she is your sister.” They did not seem to care about the rationale. And they continue to hiss and sulk.

I am now at my “cat limit.” Me and my girls know how to do two things, “We know how to adapt to change and love.” We do not always do it with a smile on our faces and with love in our hearts. But little Piper is just what the three of us needed to complete our family unit. 

Big brothers, Marshall and Copeland, will give her “a run for her money.” But they will no doubt love her too. She already speaks English and is sassy and mouthy just like her sisters. Stay tuned for more interactions with my three amigos. Welcome Home, Piper! 

Thanks for reading! And Please Spay and Neuter Your Pets!

Affirmation: I am getting to know my new family.

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

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

And The Rocket’s Red Glare

“Where liberty dwells, there is my country.”

-Benjamin Franklin

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk about the beauty of living in a free nation. And it is one of the many days that I will always celebrate our freedoms. What our founding fathers laid the foundation for is something that will never be paid in dollars. It’s always paid with lives.

The Declaration of Independence from Great Britian rule was adopted by the Second Continental Congress. It passed on July 2nd and was formally adopted on July 4, 1776. The declaration proclaimed that the Thirteen Colonies were now “free and independent States.” Therefore, the colonies were no longer part of the British Empire. The most prominent individuals involved in this process were George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, James Madison, Alexander Hamilton and Ben Franklin (history.com, 2025). The Continental Congress eventually created the Articles of Confederation which led to the establishment of the United States as an independent nation (history.state.gov, 2025).

Our country has come a long way since the days of powdered wigs, breeches, a shirt, waistcoat and coats. And our freedoms continue to evolve as do our politics. We as an “America Nation,” which was considered a crime of treason that was punishable by death. Think about that for a minute. 

At one time you could be killed for even speaking about just the idea of wanting a “free nation.” And if you think about it now, that’s exactly what is happening, not just now, but through history to other areas of the world who still live under dictatorship and other forms of government. Let me speak some of the historical names. How would you like to live your life in a nation with heads of government that have names like Adolph Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Benito Mussolini, Mao Zedong, Saddam Hussein, Idi Amin, Fransico Franco, Pol Pot, Fidel Castro, Kim Jong-I, Kim Il-sung, Agusto Pinochet, Vladimir Putin, Chiang Kai-shek, King Leopold II and Muammar Al-Gaddafi and more. Really comforting thoughts, huh. If you don’t recognize some of these names, I suggest looking at all of the atrocities that they committed.

We’ve had problems in our nation just like other countries in varying degrees. However, we don’t wake up in the middle of the nights with ISIS barging through the door killing us and our children in the most horrific of ways. Al-Qaeda doesn’t invite themselves to our dinner tables and kill us all in the name of Allah. When we go to the store we don’t have to worry about roadside bombs. We are free to worship in whatever way we choose. And we can talk about the idiots in our government without the threat of being murdered for not supporting them. We don’t have to witness beheadings of sometime innocent people who were accused of some of the most insignificant of crimes. And the only kind of  “public stoning” that goes on is on 420.

I don’t agree with a lot of the politics and leaders in this country. But I do have the freedom to write and post my blogs on a public forum. As long as I don’t harm anyone or cause an insurrection on the capitol, then I’m pretty much okay to do whatever I want to do within reason. Since the Revolutionary War, 646, 596 troops have died in battle and more than 539,000 died from other non-combat related causes (military.com, 2025). And guess what? The majority of us send others to fight wars and battles, while we sit home in air conditioning houses with cell phones watching videos on social media of people and eating Tide pods. And currently I’m blogging with a cat snuggled in my lap and wanting to be so close to me that she tries to morph her way into my skin. 

Don’t get me wrong, the world is incredibly dangerous with all of the social and economic challenges facing our country. And the United States has always set the standard for democracy that other countries can only dream about. We might not always agree about the politics of military conflicts, tariffs and the price of eggs. But we do have the right and the freedoms to live our lives the way we want. And I hope and pray that our government and those wanting to be dictators of the world, step out of “ego” and never lose sight of the cost of freedom. Freedom isn’t only paid in dollars. It’s also paid with lives.

Included in the Decalration of Indepence is the statement, “all individuals are born with inherent and inalienable rights, including the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” And that does mean ALL. Thanks for reading! God Bless you. And may God continue to bless the United States of America!

Affirmation: I am worthy of happiness and freedom.

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

#Thispuzzledlife