::pack:: of fixations

life after tragedy. living while grieving. love and triplets.



I have literally started writing so many posts during this hiatus but have not finished any of them.  There are times that I start to feel so self-conscious about this whole blog thing that I just want to call the whole thing off, unplug, & pretend that it never happened.  I feel awkward most of the time & want to crawl into a hole indefinitely.

But, there’s this small part of me, a tiny voice deep down that is cheering me on, telling me that all these short stories might be helpful to people.  So here I go again.  Since I last posted I’ve encouraged a woman to go to the police & report sexual abuse (hope to write more about this when it’s safe), I’ve stood up for myself to a very passive-aggressive neighbor, I officially own the name “BrowHive” (registered trademark (😱)), & have been over indulging in way too much candy.

I’ve been listening to the “GOOP” podcasts lately (so good!).  And one in particular called “outgrowing your imperfect childhood”.  In this particular episode they address how as babies, part of our brain development is formed by our parents cooing & smiling at us.  But how the narcissistic parent feeds off of the baby smiling & cooing at them.  They do the opposite (cause selfish).  I thought that this was so interesting.  Also, how as parents we need to understand our own childhoods in order to be better parents.  So, all this unpacking of my own experiences that I do, publicly on here, is essentially apart of my grief.  I think writing for me is apart of how I grieve and it’s interesting to me that I never really wrote at all until I was actually forced to face grief head on.

Lately, I’ve realized just how strong of a person I’ve become.  Very slowly, I’m understanding how to use the strength I’ve gained along the way & I’m able to apply it accordingly.  Even though I feel so unsure all the time, I am still slowly starting to see myself.

I used to really hate the quote “god only gives you what you can handle”, I still do as I type it.  But I’m learning that all the quotes are true!  I saw a quote by Frida the other day that said something like we can endure more than we ever thought we could.  I believe that.  I believe it’s all in your attitude.  That personality test that I mentioned on my last post said that my mental health is above average...mine...how?  But, I am.  How cool is that?  And my soul purpose is to now raise mentally healthy kids to be upstanding citizens.  My vibe attracts my tribe.

“You are the company that you keep”.... I’ve been loving this one for a couple months now.  It’s so simple, easy even.  To think that it’s been so simple all along makes me giggle.  I’ve even been making a point to only spend time around great people, with good high frequency vibrations.  Why?, because “you are the company that you keep”.  And my vibe attracts my tribe.  And my tribe consists of people that only want the very best for me.  My tribe is an army of other strong & healthy high frequency humans.  And together we can handle anything because we know just how simple it is.

If I get time I will write/finish another post today... thank you for giving me this safe place to open up  on here!!!  Xoxo


Remember when

I often get on here because I feel inspired & I want to write about stuff.  But a lot of times I never finish what I've started.  But tonight the song "Remember When" came on my spotify, have you ever heard it?  I have an awful habit of listening to the same song over and over (& over) again, until I become sick of it.  "Remember When" is a song I listened to over and over again when Colum was still alive, towards the end of his life.  There aren't a ton of memories I have of that time, for it was only a mere 18 months. 

I want to write down a few things that have happened since I wrote on here last. 

I recently waxed an Occupational Therapist.  I can only assume this, but I think she was a bit surprised that I actually knew what an Occupational Therapist was when she told me what her profession was.  We carried on for quite awhile actually before we found the strong connection we had in common.  First off she has twin daughters, my triplet daughter's age.  It's always a crazy connection to share with other Mom's; multiples are something you have to truly experience to truly understand.  I always love meeting Mom's of multiples because we can genuinely bond spontaneously without much else.  Then I asked where she worked and she said the U... that's our hospital.  I then immediately asked if she knew Darcy; our Darcy. 

She almost jumped and cried intermittently.  "You're Kelly Pack!", she shouted, "I can't believe your name didn't click until now".  We both had heavy tears welling up in our eyes.  It turned out that she actually hired Darcy.  Who is Darcy you ask?  Darcy was both Ryan and I's OT while we were in rehab.  We both had many great people taking care of us while we were recovering, but there was just something about Darcy you guys (insert crying emoji). 

Darcy, has a bright light.  She just can't help it.  Darcy was always happy.  She was always happy despite working in such a depressing place such as rehab.  Darcy would observe her patients all while maintaining a broad smile sprawling a crossed her face.  She'd observe what our needs were and then she'd go the extra mile... always.  She'd go home after work and sew little Velcro contraptions for Ryan and myself so we could do simple things like brush our teeth.  She'd sew little straps we could wrap around our broken hands so we could strap a fork in and even feed ourselves.  She drove down to our old house in American Fork so she could scope out the place (Idk if this is normal or not for an OT) and told our family and friends the crucial things we needed in order to be able to learn to live independently, such as commodes, wheelchair ramps, and shower chairs.  She would contact companies and try and get us the best deals on all our handicap essentials.  She gave us a gameplan and in that game plan, she gave us hope.  Darcy, will forever be my friend.  Darcy loved us. 
Darcy has the brightest light out of anyone in that entire hospital.  Darcy possesses magical powers that span from her positivity.  Darcy is a fairy.  Darcy is a wizard. 

The first Christmas after the triplets were born, one of the VERY best humans I've ever met (Angela Keddington), made a couple of Christmas trees for a local charity called "the festival of trees".  She made one for Colum and one for baby Norah.  The trees are sold and all the proceeds are donated to Primary Children's Hospital.  When I first saw Colum's, Toy Story themed Christmas tree I began to sob.  I later learned that Darcy, was the one who purchased our tree.  I really don't think there could've been a more perfect person to have it! 

I remember feeling so comfortable crying in front of her.  I remember that the only reason I even tried to get dressed in rehab some mornings (it was extremely painful and always wanted to just give up) was because I wanted to make Darcy proud.  I wanted to go the extra mile because Darcy was going the extra mile for me.  Darcy would sometimes wipe my bum for me and was there when my catheter leaked all over my male stripper pants during therapies. 

Thank you Darcy!  You made such a difference in our world Honey!


I recently watched Wonder Woman with the kids.  Such a great movie!  I remember sporting (hand-me-down (gross)) Wonder Woman underwear as a kid. Up until recently, I used to picture my "shield" as a bright light that surrounded me, blocking negativity off as much as possible like a magical bubble. Now, after watching Wonder Woman I have "wonder woman" bracelet armor things instead.  I am flinging my wrists, blocking jabs when I have to, not taking things personally.  But then sometimes my arms suddenly get tired and I stop and have to ask myself, "why am I having to block so much from this person?".  The important change I've recently made in my life is to tell Ryan about whom and what my wrist armor is blocking.  I used to stand it alone.  But then eventually I'd lose my shit over what looked like nothing.  I know that I shouldn't put myself in situations that I have to "block" so much from people.  I understand how simple the solution to this problem is, heck I practice it often. I've been searching myself for answers and to be honest I think that sometimes the people that I have to block the most from are ironically the M0ST entertaining to me. I've also taken a personality test recently where I've tested "I have to feel entertained to survive".  I've figured it out!  I have to feel entertained to survive you guys.  (I also have to feel attractive to survive)...  Fun fact: Ryan also has to feel entertained in order to survive...ha!  Maybe, that's why we get along so well!!!

Here's the test, please tell me what you are!




Strike 2 happened when I lived in Denver.  I was a waitress at a Mexican restaurant & in Colorado it was legal for minors to serve alcohol.  A common question asked by customers was what beers we had on tap.  I’d name off “Bud, Bud Light, Coors,... Flat Tire”.  In case you don’t know, it’s Fat Tire, not Flat.  It was a dead giveaway I was Mormon.  My friend & I had no idea what happy hour even was.

A gray haired British man dining in my section called me out on calling it Flat tire one day.  He asked me where I was from & if indeed I was Mormon.  After a few exchanges he laughed & said, “I don’t care what Brigham Young says, I think that you are a nice girl”.  I thanked him although I had no idea what he was even talking about at the time.  (I didn’t really know until 10 years later, but I never did forget it).

I also worked on the beauty side at Victoria Secret.  The manager asked me if I’d be interested in a job while we shared a bench one day.  That same manager later found out that I was Mormon & asked why Mormons used to not baptize African Americans.  I didn’t recall knowing anything about that, because that isn’t what I was taught by my church leaders.

Strike 3 happened after I had moved back to Utah.  Ryan & I were dating pretty seriously and we were sitting on a porch in the summer with a few friends.  Becky was a girl I knew of from school that was a few grades older than me.  “I’m not going to be Mormon because I think that polygamy in heaven is bullshit!”, she said.  I made her repeat what she said just soI knew for sure that I was hearing her correctly.  I had no idea that my precious religion’s doctorine still had anything to do with plural wives.  I was in complete & utter shock.  I felt betrayed & even lied to.

My “friend” that used to do my eyelashes drove up to the hospital & did my extensions on my hospital bed before Colum’s viewing.  I remember my Mom & MIL were in the room when she coldly asked me in a judgmental sort of tone, “So... what do you believe?”.  I awkwardly replied, “uh, I don’t know...more scientific stuff I guess”.  She didn’t even look at me when she said, “well you better figure it out pretty quick”.  I knew what I believed.  But I also knew how Mormons think & I didn’t want to scare them.   Or maybe I just didn’t want to feel religiously shamed at that moment.  My heart was broken as well as my entire body.  I’m wondering if my “friend” knew that my dad “blessed” our kids without asking us.  Maybe she thought it was a great idea just in case I came back to Mormonism & made myself worthy enough to raise Colum in heaven.  That way I could maybe get sealed to him.

That’s what Mormons believe.  If you lose a child you must keep yourself worthy by attending church meetings, carry a temple recommend, pay 10% of your gross earnings in tithing, so that you can get to the Celestial kingdom & be able to raise him after you die.  All of those things sound awful to me.  I also get really confused about what’s happening in the meantime.  Is Colum waiting for me in some sort of orphanage looking down hoping I pay the money?  I just don’t believe any of that.  I think it just instills more fear & devalues grief.

A few days later I called & talked to my eyelash friend.  I called her out on what she did & how she already knew what I believed.  She denied everything & sobbed as I explained to her just how hard it was to leave the church.  I compared it to coming out of the closet.  I told her that it took me over 10 years to stop feeling guilty about it. It’s annoying to me that since we were in Utah not being Mormon, I was always out numbered.  Women (that leave) specifically are labeled as either possessed by Satan or crazy.  I’ll take crazy I guess😜.  Mostly because not being Mormon makes me crazy happy😜!

A few years ago I read a book called “Under The Banner of Heaven”.  This book is about a couple brother’s killing spree that happened in my hometown (coincidentally) in the early 80’s.  What inspired these killings was a pamphlet written by a man named Udney Hay Jacob in 1842 called “The Peace Maker”.  Unfortunately Udney was a sexist asshole & in this document he writes that women are their husbands property & also introduces justifications polygamy (for the very first time).  He writes that men should treat their wives like dogs & husbands should beat their wives like they do their dogs.  This document listed Joseph Smith as the printer.  You can actually google it.  When I read the book I was shocked because Jacob is my maiden name, & Udney is my relative.  In reading about abuse I’ve learned that it’s a cycle passed down from one generation to another.  Udney was clearly abusive.  When I think about the abuse that this man possibly started in my own family it knocks my breath out of my chest.  But when I think about stopping the cycle myself I can breathe freely again.

I used to be to scared to write what my true beliefs were.  I have no idea if most of my readers are Mormon or not but I assume a lot of you are.  I think that it’s important that if you are Mormon & you’re reading what happened to me, that you really take in my perspective.  I’m not possessed.  I’m not evil or crazy.  I was scared to write my truth, because I have felt so much shame for leaving.  Maybe you can be more mindful to others like myself.  Maybe you can break the cycle.

Update: I’ve been meaning to raise our price for my parents to see us to $10,000 per hour FYI


Strike 1

If you told me only but a year ago that I’d be writing what I’ve wriiten in the past couple of months I wouldn’t believe you.  But what I’m about to write now is another side of my story.  Please proceed with caution.  I don’t write this to offend anyone’s beliefs.  This is just my story.  My TRUE story.

I grew up in American Fork, Utah.  My parents home (I may refer to it as Hell, because that’s what my version of Hell looks like), is in a culdesac.  I’ve painted a picture for you of what my self worth looked like but just want to reiterate that I had none.  I always had boyfriends, well I tried to because it helped keep me going; it meant that at least one person loved me.

Our Bishop in our ward lived directly across from my parents in the culdesac, as well as most of my Young Women leaders.  Young Women’s is part of church for girls starting at age 12 & goes until 18.  I was MIA Maid president at the time.  It was the only time I was ever anything in Young Women’s, primarily because the leaders choose the president & then the teenage president(s) choose their counselors.  And none of the presidents ever chose me, because (of course) I was mean girled at church too lol.  My leaders would wave to me multiple times a day as they’d see me driving to & from school & work etc.  I genuinely liked them because I thought that they were sincerely nice to me.

In church I was taught repentance.  There were certain “sins” that needed to be discussed with your bishop, sex being one of them.  I had sinned with my Narcissistic boyfriend 5 times (+ the one time I was raped).  The very first time it happened (for 2 seconds; 12 seconds all together if we are doing the math (wink wink)), I immediately started to sob.  I sobbed because sex was so disappointing & I knew I’d have to tell my Bishop for 2 seconds of nothingness.  I intermittently proposed to my boyfriend with pre-ejaculation issues because my life would be over if he didn’t marry me. No one would want something “used”.  I waited a couple of months as I built up my teenage courage to repent to my bishop who lived in our same culdesac (& his wife was one of my young women leaders).  I knew a girl who repented for having sex with her boyfriend & she had to go before a huge council of old men & tell them all about her slutty transgressions.  It’s funny looking back at this now because I’m realizing that our boyfriends did none of this.  To say I was terrified was an understatement.  But, I was always told that your bishop was sworn to secrecy, so at least my parents would never ever find out.

In my Bishop’s office I repented of my sins.  I was crying so hard that he probably couldn’t understand me very well.  His reaction was nothing like I expected.  He looked at me sternly & almost seemed angry with me.  He asked what ward my boyfriend was in & what his name was & that was all.  I was a bit relieved that I didn’t have to stop taking the Sacrament or go sit at a large table with 10-15 old men & tell them what a slut I was.  Every Sunday my bishop would glare angrily at me from the stage/pulpit (idk what it’s called).  It confused me because I did what I was supposed to do.  I did exactly what I was taught.  The repentance process wasn’t consistent across the board from all the horror stories I’d heard all about growing up from other girls.

The biggest change though wasn’t my Bishop’s utter disappointment, it was the women.  Within 48 hours all of them stopped waving to me.  One of their daughters wouldn’t even say hi back to me in the halls at church.  For years I thought that it must just be some crazy coincidence because I believed & trusted what I had been taught my entire life.  But deep down I knew that he told his wife & that she had told all of her friends.  What Would Jesus Do?  What would Jesus’ wife do?

There’s a common saying amongst Mormons in Utah County anyway that goes, “it’s not the religion, it’s the people”.  Meaning that you can’t stop believing in the religion because there are a few bad people in there.  But for me, him being my bishop (called by God for a 4 year term), her being my young women’s leader (also called by God), it seems that maybe the religion made them that way.  I named this post strike 1 because that’s what it represents to me.  This was my Strike 1 of me being out.


An Empath I Am

I recently had another therapist whom I’ve known & waxed for nearly 15 years in my chair.  I filled her in on some of the things I’ve recently written on here.  I explained to her what happened to me on Thanksgiving & the weeks that followed.  “You’re an Empath”, she said.  I had no idea what an empath even was.  I told her I feel energies & she didn’t look at me like I was the least bit crazy.  Because it’s a real thing!

This discovery about myself has been very profound for me & it answers a lot of questions I’ve had about myself.  I don’t remember names or faces very well.  I remember people’s energies.  It explains why going to Costco for me is the most draining thing I can think of, (also Disneyland).  I don’t get anxiety in social situations, I get extremely overwhelmed.  When I worked at Fashion Place mall for the few short months I lasted there doing brows, I’d come home so drained of all my energy.  Whenever I go to that mall it tends to take everything out of me.  Certain people, just being around them drains me.  When I first became an esthetician giving people facials was what my draining nightmares were made of.  I knew without a doubt that “energy” was real in those first few months of my career & haven’t offered facials in well over a decade.

I’ve done a little bit of research about empaths & in it I’ve learned that a lot of the times people with the most pain can be drawn to us, like a magnet.  This explains all the mean-girling I’ve experienced & why at times I attract so many toxic people.  It’s very common for empathic children to be called “lazy” ha!  This explains why so many people open up to me wholeheartedly, something I really love.  I love helping people with their problems.  I love helping others love themselves.  I love when a person discovers their natural gifts.  I love my job you guys!  I love that I’m showing my kids that you can go to work (we call it going to twerk around here) & genuinely love what you do.  This explains why I enjoy being alone so much & even my love for writing.

Empaths are very intuitive.  Since my childhood was invalidating & confusing I’ve been ignoring my gut, which I’ve also described on here as floating.  I’m no longer floating.  I’m present.  I’m listening.  I’m embracing my own gifts, because I can!  

I know that a lot of people are like me.  I really relate to this article: 


Any one else here an empath?!?




I had an energy reading done yesterday.  It ‘twas pretty profound actually.  The woman doing the readings name was Jody & Jody really helped me.  I want to write this down so I have it forever.

I just wanted to know why?  Why do I get mean girled so much.  Am I attracting it?  I know I’m not causing it.

What she taught me I will try & explain to you now.  In hopes that it might help others as well.

She said to picture a flame burning inside each & everyone of us.  She said that even the very darkest people will still have a flicker.  She said that my light is extremely bright & that there are some that just cannot handle it.  Some will try to make my light not as bright by trying to hurt me, because they can’t handle my brightness.

She told me that I often dim my light when I’m around others whose lights are not as bright as mine, just to make them more comfortable.  I dim my light so they don’t try to hurt me.  But when I dim my light I’m only hurting myself.

After reading my chakras etc (I apologize I’m pretty new to this), she told me that I’m meant to teach.  I can’t recall how she put it exactly but she said that I need to let my light shine in order to step into my divine power.  She said that when those with dim lights are trying to harm me, my spirit needs to tell their spirit that I’m just not participating.  She also said that I’m meant to help teach those whose lights could be brighter.

She told me that Colum IS with me & that had I not ever lost him, I wouldn’t get to have him with me in this magical way.  That He was meant to bee with me in this way.  She said that when I’m allowing my light to shine bright & free from negativity, (& some other stuff), that that’s when I will feel him the most.


A few years ago after I cried for about a year from being mean girled by my in-laws, somebody recommended a book to me & I actually read it.  It was called the four agreements.  I’ve lived the four agreements unknowingly a lot, at least most of them.  I realized that when I lived this way I was my happiest, best self.  The four agreements are:

1) Be true to your word

2) Don’t take things personally

3) Don’t assume things

4) Always do your best

I equally love all 4 of the agreements & it really helped heal a lot of the mean girl wounds.  I learned that if I know I’m a good person, that these things are happening because of their own issues.  I’ve understood & accepted this for awhile now.  But what I didn’t understand was why?

I’ve really just been floating.  For years I’ve been floating not really knowing or trusting this side of myself.  On Thanksgiving I met a person.  This person I may never see again & has little significance to me.  But when this person got up to introduce himself to me I suddenly got really dizzy.  I actually put my hand up to my head because I got so light headed.  His energy was really strong that I felt it physically.  And this person talked to me like he KNEW me.  Not the normal way you know a person, but, like he could read my mind, like he knew my spirit.  This lasted only for a moment.  I had to go home & recover from the way this made me feel, (& cook thanksgiving dinner).

It’s been a few months now & I actually wonder if this person I had met had anything to do with the feeling I got, maybe it was just the MOMENT.  Maybe in that very moment, everything finally aligned for me.  I hope I don’t sound crazy, (Jody understood me completely).  But this very moment is when I feel like I stepped into my divine power.  I could see & understand the big picture.  A piece of that is that I needed to heal.  I had WORTH.  And in order to heal I needed to understand, be brave, & speak my truth.  That speaking my truth isn’t trespassing.  Stop dimming my light.

I truly wish my light wasn’t bright.  All I’ve ever wanted was to live a simple quiet life, but the universe keeps showing me that I’m not meant to be quiet.  So from now on, I will dim my light for no one.  Wish me luck!  Also thank you so much for all your comments.   Let’s all let our lights shine brightly.  Thank you for validating me❤️!


Characteristics of Narcissistic Mothers article

Okay, so I came across this article in result of following a commenters advice & I am still in shock.  It’s like somebody has been following my mother around & then wrote this.  I will elaborate on a few topics from this soon!  I have so much to learn still.  Thank you so much for all of your help everyone🙏🏻!




I remember the last thing I wanted to do was plan or talk about his funeral before it happened.  I remember telling my parents that We didn’t want it to be religious because our little family just wasn’t that way.  I requested to sing itsy bitsy spider because that was his favorite song.

You see where we live everybody is Mormon & we both grew up that way.  Throughout my childhood I was taught that you’d never be happy without going to church & following it’s doctrine.  I always felt terrified as a child because I knew attending church meetings would be very difficult for me to do as an adult, because I honestly hated going.  And if my parents (& sister) weren’t there to make me, I was going to be damned for sure.  The first Sunday of every month the congregation is welcome to get up & speak to bare their testimonies.  People would often get up & sob about their relatives becoming inactive & I vividly remember gasping at the thought.  I will tell you if you don’t already know that leaving the church is scary.  No one ever gets up & speaks about that.  The people they get up & cry about probably struggled for years, & felt so.much.shame.  People think if you leave it’s because of Satan, but I left because of how it made me feel.

We couldn’t leave the hospital so we crammed as many people as we could in the chapel at the hospital for the viewing as we could.  They put Ryan & I in “cardiac” chairs (I believe) so we could sit up & we both remember how much those chairs made our poor bones ache!  There was a man there that my mom kept getting really excited about.  Everything’s kinda blurry now so bare with me.  This man had a heart condition that my late brother had had, yet the Drs were able to save his life since technology had greatly improved by the time he was born.

I remember singing itsy bitsy spider & that my oldest sister played the piano.  But all I remember besides those two things is that the man my mom had recently met, spoke at my baby’s viewing.  He spoke longer than anyone else.  And he spoke primarily about Mormon things, as Ryan & I sat feeling disrespected. I had but one request & my parents weren’t about to give it to me.  During my sons funeral the man spoke of Joseph Smith & it took all I had not to just scream at him, there, in front of everyone.  During his talk he also brought up how we’d requested the service to not be about religion but then continued to talk more about it.  I felt degraded & invalidated.  He later came to my hospital room to give me a signed copy of his book.  My mom must’ve noticed my lack of interest in it & I handed her the book as she acted like I’d handed her a million dollars.

If I could go back to that day right now, I would have yelled out at this man during Colum’s Service.  I wouldn’t have cared one bit.  But at the time I was too afraid of offending the Mormons whom were offending the hell out of me.

As I sit & reflect on this day now that I have a clearer head & emotional state I see it for what it is.  The speaker helped my mom make OUR tragedy about HER.  She adored this man not for who he was but because of his heart condition.

After the viewing we were wheeled into a private room somewhere & it was just Ryan, my parents, & I.

I could FEEL that something just wasn’t right.  My mom was trying to distract me from what my dad was trying to tell Ryan.  I kept turning my head towards them and noticed my mothers nervousness each time.  I kept ignoring her & asking him directly, “what’s going on?”.

My father was trying to tell Ryan that he had blessed our kids into the Mormon church, without ever even asking us.  It’s not a blessing per day but more of putting them on church records.  We, their parents chose NOT to do that when they were babies since we ARE NOT MORMON any longer.  It’s still funny to me that despite my drugged up state I literally could feel my fathers controlling, unethical ways.  Never looking for my best interests only his own.

My dad loves to go fishing.  He used to have a boat & he would take his grandsons fishing in the Summers.  He’d take his grandsons, just not Finn.  Two Summers ago I mentioned this to him & the rest of the summer flew by without one single invite.  Finn loves fishing possibly more than most little boys you know & then some.  He had no idea that he was being left out & like myself doesn’t care if he’s the favorite or not.  So the Summer before last I finally got an invite for Finn to go with his grandpa & cousins.  I drove Finn down to my parents house, he was to spend the night & go with them early in the morning.  As I went inside their house, I could FEEL that something was up.  It was the same feeling I’d gotten before but I couldn’t quite pin it until I was driving on the freeway back home.

Finn was about to turn 8 in a few weeks following.  My Dad wasn’t taking my beautiful non-Mormon son fishing out of love, he was taking him because he was turning 8.  And the age of 8 is when Mormon kids get baptized.  I smiled to myself because I know my son wouldn’t be easily swayed.  I am continually saddened by what I know Mormons like my parents think of people like me.  I know this because it’s what I was taught.

I remember watching an Oprah episode years ago where she asked the audience if there was one thing they could go back & change about their life what would it be.  A man who looked to be my dad’s age at the time stood up & said something like this, “I wish I could go back in time & love everybody in my life, & not let what religion they are get in the way”.  I still close my eyes & say a little prayer in my heart for all the brave, satanic people like myself, that maybe one day, their Dads heart can open up to love instead of religious obligations like the man I saw on Oprah did.


Not being “thanked enough”

Waxing different women throughout the years I’ve learned that none of us really “see” ourselves.  We all focus on our flaws, but most of the time the flaws we focus on aren’t even real.  I will have the most beautiful creature in front of me, the epitome of beauty & yet she has no idea.  In fact I don’t think any of us look into a mirror & really see our true beauty at all; only the flaws we’ve made up for ourselves.

Three Christmas’s ago I had returned to work doing eyebrows at Nordstrom.  They reached out to me & asked if I could work at the Anastasia counter at least for the holidays.  I also had 1 year old triplets & a 6 year old son.  There is one Day in December Nordstrom gives its employees a little extra employee discount & so I headed over to the handbag department to shop for my MIL.  There on the clearance table was a beautiful beige Kate Spade handbag, that being already on sale + the extra discount, & knowing my SIL wanted Togo in with me I thought it would be perfect for her.  My MIL & I are very different & I always struggle trying to figure out what to buy her.  

We drove to her house on Christmas Day, which we all know is a difficult day for us.  But We have to pretend that it’s not & that nothing ever happened.  And even if you don’t talk about your tragedy to them & pretend that it never happened at every family party you still get a letter in the mail saying that you “let your tragedy effect you too much”.  My 1 year old triplets were scattered throughout their Grandma’s house & Ryan was making sure that no one fell down a flight of stairs as she opened up the gift I had stressed about finding for her.  I was so excited to give it to her because it wasn’t too loud & it was also a neutral color.  She undid the silver Nordstrom ribbon & pulled out the beige Kate Spade handbag that I thought matched her style so perfectly.  She looked at it with extreme distaste & disgust.  She would barely even touch it with the tip of her fingers as she pulled it out & put it to the side, all while giving me, every sign of revulsion & hatred that her body & face could possibly bare to throw at me.  Her house is obviously not child proofed so it came of no surprise to me when Ryan said he didn’t see his mothers disgust with the gift I’d gotten her.  I also wonder if she knew that he wasn’t looking when she so deliberately tried to hurt me (for buying her a KATE SPADE handbag mind you).  The woman who gave birth to my husband, who my parents told me didn’t care if I lived or died, was trying to hurt me on CHRISTMAS DAY..., but why???

Looking back on that Christmas it’s funny to me because in my heart I knew something was brewing amongst the women on my husbands side of the family.  There were little signs all over the place coming from most of them for years.  For example: I got a tummy tuck, hernia surgery, & a breast reduction after I carried triplets full term.  I literally had a skin apron removed from my body.  My 21 year old niece from Ryan’s side stopped by unannounced shortly after & I mustered up the will power to get out of bed to show off the new me.  Because I assumed like most people she was happy for me.  As I limped out of my bedroom fresh from major surgery she looked at me with absolute horror & disgust.  She was trying to make me feel bad about the way I now looked.  I fully understand now that she was just trying to hurt me, & she did, she made me cry for days, but why?  Why did she want me to feel bad?  Her one mistake was doing it in front of my sitter, who witnessed the whole thing, which made her denial of it all a little tricky afterwards.  I was so grateful I had a witness to her behavior.

It’s a little blurry & confusing what happened months following the “biggest negative reaction to a Kate Spade purse ever” Christmas but it went something like this...

My MIL calls Ryan out of concern to tell him to call his sister, he calls his sister.  His sister tells him that his nieces (whom had been giving me dirty looks for years prior & I had no idea why), said that they heard from some one I said some horrible things about them  So that’s 5 women total that did not come & talk to me about these supposed things I said.  That’s 5 women talking shit about me talking shit about them.  Then they call their son, brother, uncle to try & convince him how horrible I am based off of hear say!!!

When I tried to stand up for myself it was hopeless.  Because the 5 women (4 being my in-laws) thought it was wrong of me to talk about them.  I asked why they didn’t come to me in the first place & they said because I would yell at them & make them cry.

A few months later one niece (she’s in her late 20’s not a child btw), says that all the women sit around & talk about how I didn’t thank them enough.  So does that mean Ryan thanked them enough?, or do boys not count when it comes to “thanking enough”!

 I’m no doctor but I’m pretty sure sitting around & talking about how your daughter/sister/Aunt in-law who was a victim of a very serious crime & then was pregnant with, & gave birth to triplets didn’t “thank you enough” is total gaslighting!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I wonder who the ring leader is?  Did you know that gaslighting is very common technique used in bullying?!?  It’s pretty successful too!  I cried for a good solid year about this.  I cried because I thought that they loved me.  I cried because It was all based on lies.  I cried because I loved them.  I cried because I crave healthy relationships.  I cried because I thought these people cared about us, like really cared.  I thought they helped us because that’s just what humans do.  Because what goes around comes around.  I’ve basically been family-less for years.  

Ya know how they say couples have a 90% chance of getting divorced after losing a child?  I’m actually wondering if their families have anything to do with it🤔?  I wonder if they’ve ever done studies on that?  I guess you’d have to study the 10% of people who didn’t get divorced & survived all the unnecessary bullshit of Unknowingly not thanking enough, etc.  I guess I didn’t get the memo of how to properly thank the in-laws after tragedy.  Maybe they could write us all a handbook on it, ya know for the future victims of people getting hit by others driving high & drunk & losing a child.  

There is no way I can win this fight.
And I don’t even care to try.
I know eggshells when I see ‘em.

In reading about abuse & abusers behaviors I keep reading not to listen to what they say, listen to what they do.  Also, I’m working really hard at “SEEING myself”.  Now that I know that I’m not completely nuts, I don’t want to waste anymore energy on wondering why mean girls are mean.  I’m actually taking all the mean girling that’s happened to me in like a positive way.  Like. I must bee something sorta incredible to have all these women spend so much time & effort trying to take me down when all I’m doing is trying to survive happily!  



When I was around 22 years old, I remember sitting in a room at the Dr’s office while waiting for the Dr with my Mom.  I was having gallbladder attacks even though I no longer had a gallbladder.  

I had been wanting to ask her & test out my new theory & we were just sitting there alone in a room together.  I’d rationalized her behaviors & even started to convince myself about what I was about to ask her.  “Mom, ya know uh,....when I was in Junior High & High school?  Were you going through, uh, menopause or something?  Is that the reason why all you & Dad ever did was yell & scream at me?”.  Her face froze with question & shock.   “Kelly, I never went through menopause.”  

“Mom, are you sure?  Why did you scream at me so much then?”, I asked  unbiasedly.  I just wanted answers, I just needed to understand.  These questions came from a place of forgiveness & understanding, but that wasn’t how she took it.  But, I didn’t know how she took it until a few weeks later.  “Well yes I’m sure, I had a hysterectomy & I was most certainly not always yelling at you!”.  I was so confused.  I don’t remember arguing with her any further, or perhaps that’s when the Dr waltzed in.  I felt crazy & dillusional.  She acted like she had no idea what I was even talking about.  If she wasn’t going through the worlds worst menopause causing her enormous fits of rage over the tiniest of things then why?

I called my parents house about 1-2 weeks later.  My Dad answered the phone & snapped at me.  “Kelly, why’d you say those things to your mom?!?”.  I had no idea what he was even talking about.  He didn’t care what my response was, he interrupted me, “she’s been in her room crying for 2 weeks, because you said that all we ever did was yell at you & now I’m the one having to take care of her because of what you did!”

I remember feeling horrible & ashamed that I made her feel cry for 2 weeks.  I also felt horrible from them denying their treatment towards me.  I also felt sorry for my poor Dad, I was so disgusted with myself. I had assumed she felt bad about the way she treated me throughout my childhood.  But the truth was she didn’t even care about any one else’s feelings besides her own.  So I was the one to blame for everything while my Mother Dearest played victim...again.  And that was the last time I brought it up.  Because, I guess it didn’t happen.

My Dad had just had a knee replacement & we were all to go and visit him in the hospital.  This was made out to be a big deal, (which now being what I’ve been through makes it a bit laughable to me).  My Dad will tell you himself that his knees went bad because he had been both the football AND basketball star in High school.  As I approached his Hospital room I could see his big belly sticking out the side of his hospital gown & that his room was filled with some of my siblings.  He was sitting up in his bed & was very alert, soaking up all the attention he was receiving.  I’d only been there but a minute as he looked up at me, grimaced & loudly stated, “you really need to lose weight, you’ve gotten fat!”.  I didn’t even realize he was paying attention to me.  I was speechless & extremely hurt & embarrassed.  He was right though.  I had put on some weight & it’s all I could think about.  

I was so upset by his comment for days following it.  I remember telling a sister or two how rude I thought it was, & could sense that word had  traveled back that I was upset.  Inside I felt deeply rejected by him because of my weight gain, but I’d never felt accepted either.  I called their house a few weeks later to tell my mom how I felt.  My mom answered.  And it was made known that I was somehow in trouble for having my feelings hurt.  “But Mom, he needs to lose weight more than I do.  Mom, it was rude of him to say that!  Mom, my weight is all I ever think about.  Tell him that it was really rude of him to say that.”  I was crying.


“He’s just really hurt by you honey.  I don’t think he had any idea what he was even saying Kelly, he was on so many meds”.  I remember arguing back & forth about why I was the one in trouble.  It seemed that everyone involved were on my parents side.  Why wasn’t he even being told it was rude of him to say?  Why can’t he just say he was sorry?

Both of these stories are examples of some hard core gas lighting, a new term I’ve learned (my vocabulary is growing fast).  I have been gas lighted so.many.times.  Here is the definition of gas lighting from Wikipedia (again I am still in shock there are names for the things I experienced 🙏🏻😭🙌🏼✨):


Gaslighting is a form of manipulation that seeks to sow seeds of doubt in a targeted individual or in members of a targeted group, hoping to make them question their own memory, perception, and sanity. Using persistent denial, misdirection, contradiction, and lying, it attempts to destabilize the target and delegitimize the target's belief.[1][2]
Instances may range from the denial by an abuser that previous abusive incidents ever occurred up to the staging of bizarre events by the abuser with the intention of disorienting the victim. The term owes its origin to the 1938 Patrick Hamilton play Gas Lightand its 1940 and 1944 film adaptations. The term has been used in clinical and research literature,[3][4] as well as in political commentary.[5][6]

If I experienced gas lighting does that mean every one in my parents wake did too?  Or do gas lighters have specific targets?
You know what else I’m now seeing?!?  That therapist that told me how BPD & NPD get married AND just partner up so well (she interlocked her fingers when she said it).  Wow, my parents partnership is super impressive.  If gas lighting were in the olympics I bet they’d take the gold for sure!  Also, the abusive asshole I dated in High school definitely had NPD!  I was dating my Dad!  So grateful I didn’t marry my Dad you guys!  Unanswered prayers, sometimes you just gotta bee grateful for them✨.

Ryan turned 40.  The triplets are in gymnastics.  Finn starts flag football in March.  The triplets are constantly playing “Honey’s” or “puppies” when they play house.  Dale brushes my hair, Wren is glued to my side, & Holland’s hair is always hanging in her face.  Finn is such an awesome kid.  I never have to worry about him in school & he is so responsible.  He actually is a lot like I was, they all are.  I look at my kids and see all their sweet innocence & it makes me ill to imagine myself at their age getting screamed at, shamed, & criticized.  I feel so free writing my truth.  I was severely abused & I had already survived it even before I knew it wasn’t normal.  And for the first time in my entire life, I myself feel that I am amazing!



The only way I could sum up my childhood to people was that I wasn’t allowed to have feelings.  That my Mom was the only one who got to have feelings.  I guess the easier way to put it is invalidating.

I wrote about my wedding story on here somewhere but what I didn’t tell you was that when I got home from our honeymoon, I ran back over to my parents to grab something really quick.  I typed in the code to open the garage door, then hung up my car keys on the hook in the kitchen upstairs (habbit) & ran downstairs to pick up a few last items.  I don’t recall a single word being said, but I could feel something was up.  I unhooked my keys in the kitchen, only moments later not thinking anything of it, but immediately noticed that my keys felt lighter.  

And without a word their obligation to me was done.

I no longer had a key to their precious home.  The code to open the garage was changed so I couldn’t get in that way either.  This moment & the way this made me feel is something I will never forget.  I’d never stolen anything from them.  Their house is the very last place I’d want to go to.  Yet, it almost felt as though they saw me as a criminal.  Didn’t they know all I’ve ever wanted was to be free from them?  

I’m realizing that my invalid childhood has lead to poor communication skills into adulthood.  I’m working on it.  I can explain things much better when I write them out here.  I also forgot what it felt like to trust my gut, to really trust it, because everything I felt was invalid.  I thought my gut must be wrong, it must be defective.  I understand that my parents are the way they are because of abuse & possibly permissive parents.  I know they will never be loving parents to me.  And that is all I ever wanted was to feel loved by them. And to understand it all, is freeing.

I once had a teacher that said most people see all of the details but not the big picture or, they see the big picture but not all the details.  I think I definitely don’t see the big picture a lot of the times because I get lost in all the details.  I have felt so lost in all the invalidation.  It’s so nice to see the big picture & to know, really know that I’m not defective; it’s them.

I wax the eyebrows of some pretty big bloggers/influencers.  I saw one in particular last week.  This girl is such an inspiration to me.  She shows so many different sides of herself to thousands of people; sides I’d never let anyone see. She is beautiful & a remarkable human being! She dealt with abuse in her childhood & they are still in her life via family parties etc.  I asked her how she is able to go around them & not get triggered & her response was equally both beautiful & amazing!  She said she puts all her shields up.  She meditates & then combines her inner power, & the light of Christ to make a shield of light that blocks all their negativity. (Or something like that).

Is there a shield store?  Or a shield repair shop?  Mine are broken.  Mine broke when I almost died...or is that my new perspective showing?  My new perspective of YOLO & nope if I need shields to be around you then I’m not coming ‘round, (because my baby DIED on Christmas).  No but really it’s like a gift I have now.  If people are mean to me & I did nothing to them, &
they cannot discuss what the problem is, it’s bye Felicia!  Oh, & this goes for everyone, people that know if my baby died on Christmas or not, (I will write more about this soon!).  But my shields that I have to use against toxic family are broken!  Or maybe they just don’t make shields like they used to?  Or maybe I’m.too.weak.  Or maybe my feet have walked on more eggshells than they’re supposed to & they’ve developed an extreme intolerance.

But would it be okay if I just focused on the good things happening in my life & forget about having to use shields & just not let the toxic people come around us?  (Unless they are willing to pay us of course).  And the ones that aren’t my parents, is it okay that I only want to be around them under my own terms?  Because my baby died on Christmas.  Is it okay to spare myself from additional pain from people, & no longer subject myself to being bullied by women, even if they are family?    

My body has a lot of quirks from all it’s been through. Most of the left side of my body is completely numb.  My entire abdomen is numb.  My left glute, & thigh area is completely numb. When you are numb it’s easy to not use the correct muscles in order to move properly.  This can lead to more problems.  And sometimes the pain radiates throughout.  I scar really bad internally & there’s a whole plethora of different issues there & it can be terrifying.  If I think about it, I can feel that my body hurts constantly.  But I don’t.  I keep a positive attitude.  My last physical therapist told me she thinks that my brain rewired the way I feel pain because I can handle more than most.  It rewired itself after experiencing so much.  I have been doing reformer Pilates and it has changed my life!  It’s expensive but a lot cheaper than physical therapy.  I am relearning to use the muscles slowly & it’s wonderful to feel more balanced.  When you are numb you can’t feel what muscles you’re working.  Pilates is teaching me how to use my muscles again properly.  I highly recommend it to anyone who is struggling with chronic pain.  

I can tell you this with full confidence that if you saw me today, you’d never guess my body had been through what it has.  It’s been years since I’ve taken any opiates/pain pills, (Ryan too)!!!  I don’t even take NSAIDS.  We’ve come so far that it almost feels like a different lifetime.  People ask me all the time how I did it; they say I have every excuse to not get out of bed in the morning.  I tell them that it really isn’t that hard to get out of bed if you have 2 legs that can walk.  After getting used to Colum being gone, the hardest part about Christmas & living everyday without him has been dealing with all the horrible things that our families have done to us, & not seeing the big picture.  It’s been really confusing to say the least.  

I wrote this post a week or so ago, that’s why there are 2 posts in one morning.

Thank you so much for your comments!  They mean the world to me.  Thank you for supporting me so I can speak my truth.

Black out

I used to think it was strangely fascinating when people would tell me that they’d “block things out”.  This person in front of me had experienced something so traumatic that their own brain hid it away from itself, in order to protect itself from reliving the horrific experience.  

In April or May following the crash, I can’t recall exact events now but it was when my mom was wanting me to console her for Colum dying & I wouldn’t, (it should’ve been the other way around, right?).  It upset her, &/or I stood up for myself & the usual thing happened in result.  The usual thing my Mother Dearest usually did was get all of my siblings, or as many as she could to rally against the enemy, which was me...I was STILL USING A WALKER so her desire to be the bigger victim was a hard fight & she could only round up my one older sister, the one who abused me my whole childhood, yup, that one.  They are really there for each other, two peas in a pod really.  

My sister sent me a text message stating: “Bad things happen to everybody, & you need to get over it.”  (She’s talking about the car accident I was in less that 5 months prior).

I responded: “Fuck you”, & no I don’t speak to my family that way.

My entire childhood my mantra with my evil sister was: “I can’t wait to be a grown-up so I don’t ever have to see you again”.  I’d tell myself these words over & over again.  I realized on that day that I was now a grownup & this person, although she’s biologically related to me, has no place in my life.  I’m done.

But strangely she mentioned an incident to me at my Mother Dearests Birthday party a couple years ago.  She told me she wanted to apologize for that time when I was sleeping innocently one night when we were in high school & she just came in my bedroom & punched me as hard as she could in my stomach.  She asked if there was any damage.  I listened to her in disbelief as she described details of my parents even calling the police on her.   ...how do I not remember any of this!?!  She kept mentioning that this one is one she still feels bad about.  None of it sounded even the tiniest bit familiar to me.  And this person has borderline, never apologizes for anything cause, duh, she’s never wrong.  She mentioned that she’s pretty sure that this is when she was on the drug Phen-Fen & how it was the medications fault ‘cause it made her crazy, (aw, this is her motive).  

I actually remember her on Phen-Phen & I don’t recall a change in her behaviors except that was really happy.  The happiest I’d ever seen her actually.  She’d lost some weight & her confidence immediately skyrocketed.  I think she wanted me to know that all her bad behaviors were all to blame on the Phenomenal side effects of a dangerous diet pill.  But what about all the other times I wonder what her excuse was🤔🧐?

 I’m just like those people I’ve always been strangely fascinated by.  But it’s daunting not knowing what else my own mind is hiding from itself.  Or is it? Is it ok to have a plethora of tiny vaults holding twisted memories of abuse, stashed away in your brain & soul?  Truthfully, I am just happy to not be stuck in a basement with her anymore, with a conjoined bathroom between us. When I text my parents horrible things (after thanksgiving), I told them that “when they get to hell, to tell them you want my old room in the basement.”  

The hardest part for me is that my parents hardly ever protected me from her.  They were too busy thinking they were the only ones with feelings. No one will ever understand what it was like in that basement except for maybe her ex-husbands.