Hollow Holidays

The lights are strung, the carols play,

But joy feels a million miles away.

My daughters' laughter, their shining eyes,

Lost in the void where my spirit lies.

This holiday season, no gifts can mend

The broken road I’m forced to tend.

Court papers, therapy, miles of red tape,

Each moment, a struggle to escape.

Sobriety's a chain I clutch so tight,

Yet demons call to me late at night.

Their whispers echo: "You'll never be free,"

A fight I wage for the best version of me.

My love is questioned, my heart denied,

Though I give all, I’m met with pride.

A love unproven, mistrust takes hold—

A fragile bond, so brittle, so cold.

Felonies shadow my every stride,

A past I can’t flee, though I’ve tried.

Jobs that vanish, dreams delayed,

Child support for love unpaid.

Miles from home, from family’s grace,

Yet compliance demands I keep my place.

Therapy, classes, appointments to tend,

The grind unyielding, it never ends.

Still, beneath the weight, a flicker glows,

A mother’s love that fiercely knows—

One day, I'll climb this endless climb,

And reclaim what’s lost, one step, one time.

For now, I breathe, I fight, I stand,

This broken heart still demands:

I may be fractured, but I’m not through—

I’ll keep rising, for me, for you.

Embracing the Darkness

My daughters are the light of my life—the reason I breathe, the reason I smile, the reason I keep going. Without them here with me, everything feels so dark. It’s getting harder and harder to put on a fake smile, to pretend I’m okay when all I do is cry. I’m so sad all the time, and I hate feeling like this. I just want my daughters home.

I want to be the mom I know I can be—the mom they deserve, the mom I was before all of this. The only thing I’ve ever been certain about in this life is being their mommy. Without them, I have no purpose. My life feels meaningless without them.

I wish I could go back. I wish I had never let them go visit New York. If I knew then what I know now, everything would be so different. I just need my life back. I need my daughters back. I need this pain to stop because it’s only getting worse.

I’m at a breaking point. I don’t know what to do anymore, but I know I can’t keep living like this. If you’re reading this, please send me strength because I truly need it more than ever

Is giving up an option to even consider?

Today feels impossible. My mind is heavy, my heart is broken, and I’m not in a good place mentally. Some days, I can find the strength to fight, but today, I don’t even want to try. It feels like there’s no point. I just want to give up.

I miss my daughters so much it’s unbearable. I wish they were home with me right now. Their presence would make this emptiness feel even a little lighter, but they’re not here. And with Christmas just a few days away, the pain feels even heavier. There’s no hope, nothing to celebrate, and nothing that feels meaningful without them here with me.

I’m sharing this because I know I’m not the only one who struggles, especially this time of year. If you’re reading this, please send some love my way, because I’m really struggling to hold it together. And if you’re feeling the same way, know you’re not alone.

The holidays are supposed to be about joy and togetherness, but for some of us, it’s just a reminder of what we’ve lost or what’s missing. I don’t know how I’m going to get through it, but for now, I’m just taking it moment by moment.

The Weight of the Holidays: Navigating Depression and Custody Battles

The holiday season is supposed to be a time of joy, warmth, and togetherness. For many, it’s a chance to create cherished memories with loved ones, exchange laughter, and indulge in traditions. But for others, especially those missing their children and grappling with the pain of custody battles, the holidays can feel like an unbearable weight—a stark reminder of what’s missing.

As the world lights up with festive decorations and cheerful songs fill the air, it’s easy to feel isolated in your grief. The pressure to appear happy during this time of year can make the struggle with depression even harder. Every carol, every glittering tree, and every image of families gathered together can feel like salt in a wound that refuses to heal.

For parents fighting to regain custody of their children, the holiday season isn’t just emotionally challenging—it’s a battlefield of memories and longing. You think about the traditions you used to share, the laughter of your kids decorating the tree, or the way their eyes lit up as they opened gifts. These moments, now out of reach, can haunt you. The ache of missing your children becomes sharper, compounded by the uncertainty of when—or if—you’ll be able to hold them close again.

The fight for custody is a draining process, both emotionally and financially. The legal battles are a constant source of stress, with endless paperwork, court dates, and, often, a feeling of powerlessness. It’s hard to focus on self-care or even daily responsibilities when your heart is consumed by worry for your children and the weight of proving you’re the parent they need and deserve.

Depression during the holidays doesn’t just take an emotional toll—it can affect your physical health, relationships, and ability to function. Feelings of guilt, inadequacy, and hopelessness often creep in, making it hard to reach out for support. But it’s important to remember that you’re not alone in this struggle.

Finding Strength in the Darkness

1. Acknowledge Your Feelings

It’s okay to feel sad, angry, or overwhelmed. Give yourself permission to grieve the loss of normalcy and the time you’re missing with your children. Bottling up emotions only makes them more difficult to handle.

2. Lean on Your Support System

Whether it’s a trusted friend, family member, or support group, sharing your pain with others can lighten the load. There are also communities of parents who’ve gone through similar experiences and can offer encouragement and advice.

3. Create New Traditions

While waiting for the day you can celebrate the holidays with your kids again, consider creating new traditions, even if they’re just for yourself. It might not fill the void, but it can give you a small sense of purpose and joy.

4. Seek Professional Help

Depression isn’t something you have to face alone. A therapist can provide coping strategies, a safe space to talk, and tools to help you manage the overwhelming emotions.

5. Focus on the Bigger Picture

The fight for custody is exhausting, but it’s a fight worth having. Remember why you’re doing this: to give your children the love, stability, and future they deserve. Keep that as your north star, even when the days feel dark.

Looking Ahead

The holidays won’t always feel this heavy. There will come a time when you can share laughter, hugs, and celebrations with your kids again. Until then, take it one day at a time. Be gentle with yourself. Recognize the strength it takes to keep going despite the weight of the world on your shoulders.

The holiday lights may feel dim right now, but they’re still there—waiting to shine brighter when this storm passes. And it will pass. Hold on to hope, for yourself and for the precious reunions that await.

Facing Authority and Overcoming Anxiety: My Journey with Accountability

Walking into my probation officer’s office is one of the most nerve-wracking experiences I face regularly. Every time I step through that door, my anxiety skyrockets, even though I know I’ve done nothing wrong. It’s not about guilt; it’s about the overwhelming fear of judgment, of authority, and the pressure to be perfect in a situation where perfection feels impossible.

I’ve spent countless hours analyzing why I feel this way. Maybe it’s rooted in the power dynamics—she holds the ability to make decisions that directly impact my life. Or perhaps it’s the lingering shame of my past, the fear that no matter how hard I try, I’ll always be seen as the person I once was. Either way, these appointments trigger a cascade of anxiety that’s hard to shake, even after I’ve left her office.

Despite this struggle, I recently took a big step forward in my recovery and personal growth: I wrote her a letter. This wasn’t just any letter; it was my way of taking accountability for my past wrongdoings, a fundamental part of my journey in Alcoholics Anonymous.

Writing the letter wasn’t easy. Every word felt like peeling back a layer of armor I’ve built to protect myself from the judgment of others—and myself. I apologized for the mistakes I made that brought me to this point, for the pain I caused others, and for the ways my actions affected my life and theirs.

Taking accountability is a cornerstone of recovery, but it’s also one of the hardest parts. Admitting that I was wrong, that I hurt people, and that I have to work every day to make amends—it’s humbling and freeing all at once.

What surprised me most was my probation officer’s reaction. She wasn’t dismissive or harsh; instead, she acknowledged my effort. In that moment, I realized that while she is an authority figure, she’s also human. She sees my progress, not just my past.

This experience has taught me something important: fear of authority often comes from within. It’s the remnants of shame and guilt, the little voice that says, “What if they don’t believe in you?” But by taking steps to own my story and my actions, I’m beginning to rewrite that narrative.

I still feel anxious every time I report to her office, but now I see it as another opportunity to prove—to myself, most importantly—that I am not my past. I am a person in progress, someone who is learning, growing, and showing up even when it’s hard.

If you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt that paralyzing fear of authority, know this: it’s okay to feel afraid, but don’t let that fear hold you back. Take accountability where it’s due, show up for yourself, and trust in the process. Growth isn’t linear, but every step forward is a victory.

For me, writing that letter wasn’t just part of my AA journey—it was a step toward healing, toward proving that I’m not just surviving this process, but thriving in it. And for that, I am proud.

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