AUGUST 24, 2022: “I Hope You Know” …

Evidently, “Someone” needed me to hear this today, so He sent the memo through a very dear friend of mine on Instagram of all freaking places. Although I’m fairly certain that my dad got the text I sent him and I haven’t yet gotten a response, at LEAST I’m no longer “blocked” from his phone, so I‘m gonna call that PROGRESS!

In the meantime …

Dear Dad,

If for some strange reason you actually happen to see this, I hope you know you don’t have to say you’re sorry. You don’t have to live with the heartache you keep, ’cause I don’t need no apologies. I really have tried writing you out to get some closure, but the more the years go by, I’d rather not live with got cold shoulders, ’cause the more I realize as I keep getting older is that it’s never too late to turn it all around. So, don’t you beat yourself into the ground. I know you’ve tried your best. I know you struggle. The cards that you got dealt surely did give you trouble. Now, I see the you in me, and guess what? I SEE DOUBLE! But guess what else? We really CAN still turn it all around. We don’t have to change the story, but you don’t have to carry the weight that you keep, ’cause I don’t need no apologies. Please don’t turn your back on me, because I really do still love you.


{Papa Roach’s Words Adapted By The Real Cat Williamson}

AUGUST 23,2022: “I’m Alright, Thanks For Asking.” …

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!

Three years ago this hour, the police chief of my town walked into the hospital where my broken daughter was laying to tell me they’d found my husband dead in his car courtesy of the hollow point he’d put in his own head.

No, I don’t think God was laughing that day or that He laughs on any of the days we spend facing the wrath of His angels. In fact, I’m certain that He was on that hospital floor wailing with me and holding me tight as every shred of what I’d come to believe as truth turned out to be the devil’s lie. God DID give me wings, but it was MY job to learn to fly. I had to face not just Zack’s, but my own “devil in the mirror” before I could ascend to the sky.

Yes, the end IS coming, and no, I don’t think I mind. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again … as hard as this “living” thing can be, I have no intention of dying unless and until HE says it’s my time. In the meantime, imma stick around here as long as I’m allowed as the UNBREAKABLE risen QUEEN I was born to be.

As for the devil? Come for me mother fucker! In case you haven’t noticed, my soul is already spoken for, and PS, you’re NOT not the one who gets it! That’s not a challenge … IT’S FACT!

Wow! I guess that wasn’t too graceful, now was it? If you’ve been around this Diary long enough you know damn good and well that sometimes I’m Heaven, sometimes I’m hell, and sometimes I really can’t tell which is which. Through it all, though, I always did know it would come to this, my “roll, roll, roll … I’m movin’ ahead”. THIS living queen who “rolls” as God’s favorite daughter is NOT gonna sleep ’til she’s dead! I’ve got punctuating to do and phoenixes to raise, so, I have no other choice but to be alright.


‘Cause I’m alright. Thanks for asking. There’s a million things I’d love to say, but you don’t wanna hear. Yeah, it’s alright. I don’t need your blessings. I’d rather face the wrath of angels than the devil in the mirror. I don’t think God is listening. She told us to follow, but left us behind. I’ve never seen an angel, but I know the Devil, and he told me I’m fine. “What doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger.” That’s what everyone keeps telling me. I’d rather capsize than chase an old horizon. Throw me back into the deadest of seas. I know that God is laughing. She gave us our wings, but never taught us to fly. They say the end is coming, and if that’s true, well, I don’t think I mind. Heaven or hell? I can’t tell which is which. I always knew it would come to this. Roll, roll, roll … I’m movin’ ahead. Roll, roll, roll … guess I’ll sleep when I’m dead. {Five Finger Death Punch}

AUGUST 22, 2022: “The VERY Unpopular Monster!” …

~ the Bug ~
{by Gia “Khaos” Embach}

In keeping with the metamorphosis of my journey, this day memorializes two profound occasions in my life. You see, not only is this my 500TH DIARY ENTRY, but it’s the three year anniversary of my husband’s suicide at “just before midnight” on August 22, 2019.

With that, it seems only fitting that I pay tribute to one of my very few muses, Franz Kafka, the surrealistic writer from Prague whose inspired work left a tail on the fire of his words that it still burns bright in me a century later.

Much like my husband, Kafka left this world tragically unaware of how powerful his legacy would be, much less that he would eventually be regarded as one of the most prolific literary figures of the 20th-century. He only ever published a hand full of his work while he was alive because he didn’t believe it worthy. It was his dear friend, Max Brod, who as the executor of his estate blatantly disregarded the directive that his unfinished works be destroyed and published them. Be it not for the fact that Brod betrayed a dying man’s final wishes, the trajectory and longevity of Kafka’s legacy may not have been fully realized.

To say something is “Kafkaesque” is to infer that something is absurd and surreal, if not nightmarish and disorienting, all of which words in so many ways define my own seemingly absurd and surreal existence. Meanwhile, I could wax on poetically about everything “Kafka”, but perhaps the words that I believe sum him up the best are these:

Franz Kafka is regarded as one of the greatest literary figures in recent history. He is known for his uniquely dark, disorienting, and surreal writing style, a style and quality so particular to him, that anything that resembles it has come to be known and referred to as “Kafkaesque”.
{“What Is Kafkaesque?” ~ The Philosophy Of Franz Kafka” … The Pursuit Of Wonder”}

Most people will never know what really happened in our home in the months before Zack’s suicide. To say that unfathomable insanity, if not purely demonic evil besieged us would not give credence to the monster that took up residency in his mind and all but devoured my daughter as well during its reign of unholy terror. She ended up hitting a major wall in the wake of everything that happened two weeks before her sophomore year end, so much so that the school decided to release her earlier and excuse her from final exams so that we could tend to her fragile mental health.

In lieu of finals, her literature teacher had asked her to write a personal memoir without fully knowing why the school had negated her exams. Upon becoming aware that writing a memoir might be the worst possible thing for her under the circumstances, she opted to have her write an essay about her favorite book by her favorite author instead.

~ Zack’s Last Audible Read ~

Unbeknownst to me, Gia had read “The Metamorphosis” several times since Zack’s suicide, having done so because not only was she aware that Kafka was my favorite writer, she knew that it was the last book Zack had listened to nineteen days before he left. She was trying desperately to make sense out of her parents. Again unbeknownst to me, she wrote her essay about “the invisible monster”:

How Do You Fight An Invisible Enemy?


(Written By Gia Embach)

Since the beginning of time or existence itself, for living things big or small, life is marked with a common anguish: To live is to suffer. Over time, however, as humanity has specifically thrust itself into problems of its own device, it’s tried desperately to put incomprehensible ideas or situations into a box so as to minimize the pain and anxiety that fester in the face of the unknown or difficult.
Anguish was arguably never more prevalent than throughout the duration of World War I. The largest, bloodiest, most destructive war the world had yet seen, with such horrors as to reduce the social order and beliefs to rubble in a similar manner to the physical world around people all over the world. During the uneasy postwar years, this society of confused and angry people confided in Czech-born writer Franz Kafka.
His stories almost always depict characters who are in eerie situations they can neither comprehend nor escape from. While this idea of using the imagination to comprehend the uncomfortable and incomprehensible world of emotions and psychology was precious to those living during the postwar years, his message still rings true today, as people still find the comprehension of the human mind to be incredibly difficult and laborious. Through allegorical works of literature and art, artists and writers allow others, and themselves, to understand feelings and situations that would otherwise be terrifying or unfathomable to bring comfort that stems from a shared discomfort.
The Metamorphosis begins with Gregor Samsa awaking in his bed only to find himself transformed into a large cockroach or other bug-like vermin. Gregor becomes increasingly dreary after looking out the window to all the rain and darkness and decides to give in to the pull of sleep calling to him. His new body, however, won’t let him lay comfortably, so he tries desperately to fling himself on his side to rest, only to fall on his armored back, forced to look at his grotesque abdomen and thin, scrambling legs. His mind then drifts to the dread he feels for his stressful job, the importance of sleep, so he begins focusing on the mundane issues in his life that still take precedence over his terrifying condition. His family worriedly knock on his door attempting to converse with him and wondering what the matter is, as Gregor has always been a dutiful worker and had never missed a day of work in his life. Gregor comes to find that he is unable to communicate with human speech and struggles to converse with his worried family on the other side of the wooden door which he soon finds he is unable to open, only doing so after great difficulty.
Emerging from his room, his family and the Chief Clerc are shocked by his appearance and he is soundly scolded by the Chief Clerk. Gregor retreats to his room, injuring himself in the process, and remains isolated inside. He comes to find that his little sister, Grete, attentively looks after him, bringing him fresh food that is unappealing to Gregor despite his hunger. The next morning, he is brought rotting food which he devours ravenously. From his room, Gregor overhears his family’s troubles. His guilt and shame only grow as he listens to his family try to figure out how they will make enough money to support each other, as Gregor is unable to provide for them now. Overwhelmed with sadness and guilt, he returns to his isolation for a few weeks, and Grete slowly but surely becomes less caring for Gregor, and increasingly upset and impatient at her brother’s need for care. When he finally gets enough courage to leave his room, his sister finds him in the kitchen, disturbed. A month later, his mother offers to take the furniture out of his room, so he can crawl more comfortably in his room, however Gregor wishes to hold on to the furniture, keeping himself connected to his humanity, to the familiarity of the Gregor before he woke up that fateful morning as a giant bug. Gregor eventually puts himself upside down on his ceiling, above a painting in his room, the sight of which causes his mother to faint, and his father returns home to find Gregor outside his room once again, only to pelt him with apples, seriously injuring him as he flees back to his room. Gregor takes another month to heal. His family has become exhausted from working and decide to house some loggers for extra income. Later, as Gregor is drawn out by the beautiful sound of a violin, the sight of him disgusts the loggers, causing them to leave without paying rent, so his once gentle and compassionate sister now states that the bug is not really Gregor and has ruined their lives. Returning to his room, he thinks fondly of his family before he dies. His body is found, and his family carries on happily without him as they discuss their plans for the future.
Although there are many interpretations of this eerie tale, I believe it is an allegory for depression and the damage it causes to not only the one who suffers from it, but also those around them. The first time I read it, I was immediately fond of Gregor. In him, I found that sense of comfort that I had mentioned before. Comparing his experience with depression to mine allowed me to feel less alone. Like me, even simple tasks for him such as getting out of bed or talking became excruciatingly difficult and it exhausted him to venture from the safety of the safe, cold comfort and isolation of his room Thinking that someone who was alive over 100 years ago had the same exact feelings that I’ve had made me feel less ashamed of my illness.
In another mirror of my mind, Gregor’s mind drifts to his worries and anxieties about the future and all the little things that could go wrong. Been there! Done that! No matter how long you have depression or how “well” you handle it, there are always things on your mind. They’re like an invisible bag of rocks dragging behind your feet that make your legs tire quickly and your entire body feel incredibly heavy. Each time Gregor tried to reach out and become himself again, he was treated with disgust, disdain, and impatience, reminding him time and again why he had hidden himself away in the first place. To those living in a world outside of a disease festering inside one’s brain, there are no rocks and no issues, there’s just laziness and distraction. “They’re not trying enough” or “They’re being dramatic”.
Grete, who at first gave Gregor aid with love, soon drifted away. When you suffer from depression, it can be hard for others to love and care for you, so when you are living as a creature you yourself can hardly look at without disgust, how COULD you accept any help? Depression tells you that you aren’t worth it and you don’t deserve it. If your symptoms themselves don’t push people away, you will. Giving yourself excuses to be alone, hoping that if you sabotage the good things enough, you might begin to feel like your feelings are valid, but that is a rare thing to come to believe. Then, just like Gregor, you soon find that reaching out only gets you hurt again, and you fully realize all that you no longer have. At this point, a person with depression will respond in a variety of ways. Some seethe with a burning anger, others protect themselves with an icy numbness, and others drown themselves in tears. In other cases, like Gregor, he simply allows himself to fade away. He felt ashamed, guilty, impossible to deal with. The harsh words of others twisting the steel blade he had dug into his chest deeper. He thinks of those who shunned him with love, understanding that nobody could love a monster. He thinks of them and dies, utterly and completely alone.
The Metamorphosis was the last thing my father read before he lost his battle with his own invisible enemy … his “bug”. While literature like Kafka’s does indeed offer comfort, nothing can cover the harsh and bitter reality of mental illness. Only the luckiest ones, and these warriors are far and few between, survive the battle against the hidden enemy. Many, like Gregor and my father, slowly fade away, isolating themselves until death to keep those they love from the harm they know they cause.
The truth of the matter is this: human beings are far from being able to comprehend the human mind in its best form and are further still from understanding a mind that is damaged. However, through people like Kafka, who cut these incredible issues into tiny, more manageable pieces, we can all come to understand it a little better. Those who suffer, can come to understand their suffering. Those who don’t share that same, complex kind of pain, come to understand it. When people understand something so horrible and terrifying, it slowly falls apart as it’s being chipped away like a block of marble until something beautiful and heroic remains.
In closing, I feel it is imperative to appreciate the gift that art can give to humanity: the ability to comprehend the incomprehensible, the ability to look at ourselves as works in progress rather than vermin, and the ability to unite people of all walks of life together in an often-forgotten fact. Once we strip away our flesh and everything of this Earth, each of us has a soul that is broken, and each of our souls, whether we acknowledge it or not, has a burning desire to be loved. That fact can only be nurtured and accepted through people like Kafka who aren’t afraid to brave the nightmares of existing, people who shine lights in darkness so others can see light.

Of all the things she could have written about, and this despite the fact that she had been excused from writing a personal memoir, in many ways she did write a personal memoir. Can you FEEL the ABSURDITY? Can you FATHOM the SURREALNESS? Can you appreciate this cosmic kick in the face of that elusive demon bug that has infested the minds of too many Gregors to count?

FUCK YOU “popular monster”! You may have obliterated, disintegrated, and annihilated my husband, but you will NOT feast upon another carcass in my divinely punctuated halo if takes my very last breath to keep you under foot. I’ve FOUND my way out of your web you fucking LIAR and miserable CHEATER.

I’ve fallen IN LOVE

with NOT falling apart!

HAPPY 500TH DIARY ENTRY TO ME! May you rest eternally Zachariah and Franz, two of the few mortal men who were able to reach the depths of my soul. You may be gone, but you’ll never be forgotten, nor the countless ways you both inspired my metamorphosis.

Last, but not least, THANK YOU from my bursting heart to my Mona Lisa daughter for helping me finally find the words I’d long been searching for to honor my favorite beetle.

If you or someone you love is battling an “invisible monster”, PLEASE reach out for help! The “SAMHSA National Helpline” is a FREEE, confidential, 24/7, 365-day-a-year treatment referral and information service (in English and Spanish) for individuals and families facing mental and/or substance use disorders. Always … Keep … FIGHTING!

AUGUST 19, 2022: “The Great Alchemy” …

The new album dropped at midnight and it’s mind-blowing, but I got stuck on this one song, “All I Know”. Meanwhile, while we were on a live chat with him in the wee hours of the morning, Ivan said that the whistling at the intro just came to him one night while he was at his cabin in Wyoming. He said he’d been laying in bed, heard whistling outside of his window, then just woke up and started writing.

Now, here’s where this “Death Punch” Diary entry may throw some of you for a loop, ’cause I’m about to go somewhere that some of you want nothing to do with. Those who know me best know that I fiercely believe in the higher power that’s running this whole “greatest show on Earth” gig who I call by the name of God. As far as I’m concerned, creation itself is a musical composition straight from His hand, and the humans He has specifically chosen to make music of every kind are His tuning forks:

But now bring me a musician.” Then it happened, when the musician played, that the hand of the Lord came upon him. [2 Kings 3:15 NKJV]

Here’s the deal, folks: Zack used to whistle and hum all the fucking time, so, before I heard Ivan talking about it, I’d already been captured by that whistling and listening to the song over and over. It was one of the most ethereal moments I’ve ever experienced in my life. “From Zack’s soul, to God’s ears, to Ivan’s mouth”, then POOF! “A seemingly magical process of transformation” through the creation of the hauntingly beautiful whistle at the beginning of a song that echoed to me just like the many other voices from my past that I believe are trying to send me messages:

Somehow, the haunting intro to this song with its echoes of what seem like my ancestors calling to me, channeled me back to either the wild, wild west or some ancient arena in Spain where kill or be killed was the fucking assignment, much like it is today during “times like these” when we’re all just fighting not only to survive, but fighting for the will to survive.
{“Times Like These“}

Much like my “Brighter Side Of Grey” moment back in March of 2020, I believe that Zack needed me to take note of the powerful message in this song, so he had God use Ivan’s whistling to do it. That’s right folks, love it or hate it, and as impossible as it may seem for some people to conceptualize, as far as I’m concerned, Ivan is not just some heavy metal rock star with a colorful past, present, and future, whose job is to jump around on stages worldwide and entertain the masses. His purpose here is so much fucking bigger than perhaps even he will ever be able to fully conceptualize. He’s a “universal elixir” and tuning fork that God is using to perpetuate His greatest alchemy of all … MUSIC!

Have I ever told any of you that I’m the luckiest human woman alive? Have I told you that I’m God’s actual favorite daughter? Have I told you how thankful I am to be sitting in all these truths and realities that are truly “all I know”, many of which I don’t even really understand, AND THAT’S OKAY? Well, if not, I’m telling you right now. Yes, I am. I am God’s favorite daughter and His divine apostrophe!


I don’t think that I’m crazy. Yeah, but how would I know, when the voices remind me that it’s all just for show. Well, I thought I had answers, but the questions have changed. It’s so hard to feel anything when I’ve only known pain. Pain. You can cast me out and dig my hole. Spit on my grave. Curse my soul. You can hold me down and not let go, but the devil you fear is all I know. And the road that’s less traveled, well, it’s all that I’ve known. Every time I look backwards, there’s still so far to go. If I’m born to be broken … cold, bloody, and numb … tell me, why am I running? What am I running from? From? As I sit here in silence, all alone in myself … who the hell would believe me? Better yet, who would I tell? I can’t tell. {Five Finger Death Punch}

AUGUST 11, 2022: “The Silent Pieces Of My Memories” …


They can shatter you into literal pieces, or under the right circumstances, can build you into a living mosaic masterpiece, the likes of which no one has ever seen. Take, for instance, this “Facebook Memory” that popped onto my feed just after midnight from August 11, 2014, wherein I made poignant post in response to having heard someone use the words “selfish” and “suicide” in the same sentence:

“… how selfish of someone who has everything in the world to commit suicide”. Just read that complete and total bullshit and it’s so beyond infuriating. It’s called depression people, and it knows no boundaries! As if someone actually wakes up one morning and says “Okay, I’m feeling kind of selfish today so I think I’ll just asphyxiate myself”. Been there, done that. It means a human being is in SO much unbearably excruciating pain, sometimes both mentally AND physically, that the only escape they see or “feel” from the noose around their own heart is sleep. It’s the ultimate end to the many broken voices in their mind. Don’t judge. Instead, be on your knees thanking your God that you’ve never been in such a deafeningly silent place. Seriously? And by the way, someone please define “everything”. If someone has “everything” they must not become depressed?

As you can see, it didn’t sit well with me to hear such careless words tossed into the wind. If only I’d known what was coming for me and mine just five years and 11 days later. It’s as though the Universe was already preparing me for the shattered pieces of a life I never imagined I’d have to walk through, especially after having survived my OWN suicide attempt in November 2006, back when the only words I could ever really manage to SILENTLY scream out to God were such as these:

I’m here again, a thousand miles away from you. A broken mess … just scattered pieces of who I am. I tried so hard. Thought I could do this on my own.

That was then.


I’m so beyond thankful that I’ve grown to this place where all the memories and scattered pieces of my shattered life no longer haunt the dark chasms in my mind. You see, it was in those very chasms and in my darkest hours that I was able to find my way back Home to my truly blind faith and rightful place as “God’s favorite daughter“. These days, my heart SINGS in a much different kind of silence:

Then I saw Your face … I knew I was finally Yours. I found everything I thought I lost before. You called my name … I came to you in pieces so You could make me whole. I’d come undone … but You made sense of who I am … like puzzle pieces in Your eye.

I’ve said it many times before, but let me say it again. I’d give anything if I could just “zap” all this power and grace that I wield in my divinely punctuated soul to every single person who is now or ever has been shattered in the silence of painful memories, not the least of which was my beautiful husband who left be behind in his shards. All of this pain has been a gift, because without out it I would never have gotten to know how beautiful the brighter side of the darkness can truly be.

Thank you, once again, to one of my favorite lifetime bands, “Red“. This bittersweet song has made more than a few appearances here in this Diary thus far, and I’m thankful for the ways that the meaning of its powerful words have evolved within me over the years. Oh, don’t get me wrong … it’s still a major tearjerker. Only, these days those tears come from a place of hope, faith, and healing that I can barely put into my own words.

Meanwhile, I’m still standing strong amidst a lifetime of “shards and pieces” that I suppose should have actually killed me by now, but instead have only helped me find God’s face and voice within myself. I will never be broken and alone in silent darkness again.

JULY 25, 2022: “The Nowhere Kids” …

The relationship a human being either has – or doesn’t have – with their biological mother from birth sets the tone for the entire rest of their life. Short of that, every single thing a child hears (or doesn’t hear), experiences (or doesn’t experience) has a physiological influence on their potential future mindsets, perceptions, and overall mental “wealth”.

Trust me when I say that I personally know from whence I speak, ’cause in case any of you missed the memo, I was married to a “nowhere kid” whose less than abysmal mother “THING” abandoned and left him behind to literally disintegrate before our eyes and ROT in his own remains.

Birthday to age five is when the majority of the human brain is hard-wired, and birthday to age seven is when all of the most crucial tent poles and milestones of a child’s life occurs. This is why I fiercely believe that childhood toxicity, abuse, neglect, and abandonment – especially by a “mother THING” – are amongst the most egregious crimes against humanity.

Parents who abuse, abandon, or neglect their children are the bane of mankind’s existence – and they’re gross – and thank you JESUS that Karma truly IS a bitch. I desperately need to believe that such crimes WILL NOT be overlooked by this Cosmos or it’s God.

JULY 18, 2022: “Mama’s Song” …

… that moment it’s the day of her 17th birthday and you spot the little wooden spoon that only she and you will ever understand, which spoon rests atop a special little box with the two precious pictures she pinned at age 13 before you even knew what “pinning” was.

Meanwhile, the first thing that comes to your mind as you’re clutching said wooden spoon and the “dream gown” pictures to your heart is the her walking down the aisle towards her future one day as this song is playing in the background. Then you smile from ear to ear because you know with every shred of both your beating hearts that you have taught her to do the right things, so, come hell or high waters, your baby’s gonna be alright. She’s a battle born warrior QUEEN just like her Mama whose fierce diamond heart adorns your crown and even on her worst day eclipses your own shadow in every best possible way.

Then the second thing you see, which brings a river of tears to your eyes, is yet another one of “those pictures of them” walking hand in hand down down “their pier”, because God Himself knows how much it’s going to kill you when it’s “that moment of her going wedding day” and he’s not going to physically be there to walk her down the aisle towards her future. But then again, he will be, and Dear GOD, how have we survived all these days and months without him? Oh, that’s right, it’s all that divinely punctuated power and grace of yours, the likes of which have helped you lead her towards her own destiny no matter which road or “aisle” she takes. Now, where was I going with this again? Oh, yes …

So, here we are again with another year in the books, standing at the precipice of “that day that’s fast approaching” when I’m gonna have let her take off and fly. She’s made my heart sing louder with each year I’ve watched her grow forward, and if only every mother could be so blessed to be leaving such a magnificent legacy behind one day, oh, what a wonderful world this would be! In my heart of hearts, I’ve known long well that I absolutely am doing my utmost to make sure she’ll have everything shes need to make it through this crazy life.

I love you, my “Mona Lisa“, and I do only want the best for you, no matter what you decide that will look like. May you never cease to remember that at the end of every day it’s you who is the answer to all your faithful prayers as you continue to rise in your own power and grace, lighting fires with your words, and punctuating this world with an apostrophe of your own. For the record, I really do hope that if for some absurd reason I ever decide to grow up, I can be more like you.

… “Mama”


Mama, you taught me to do the right things, so now you have to let your baby fly. You’ve given me everything that I will need to make it through this crazy thing called life. And I know you watched me grow up and only want what’s best for me and I think I found the answer to your prayers. And he is good, so good. He treats your little girl like a real man should. He is good, so good. He makes promises he keeps. No, he’s never gonna leave. So, don’t you worry about me. Don’t you worry about me. Mama, there’s no way you’ll ever lose me. Giving me away is not goodbye. As you watch me walk down to my future, I hope tears of joy are in your eyes. ‘Cause he is good, so good. And he treats your little girl like a real man should. He is good, so good. He makes promises he keeps. No, he’s never gonna leave. So, don’t you worry about me. Don’t you worry about me. And when I watch my baby grow up, I’ll only want what’s best for her, and I hope she’ll find the answer to my prayers … and that she’ll say … He is good, so good. And he treats your little girl like a real man should. He is good, so good. He makes promises he keeps. No, he’s never gonna leave. So, don’t you worry about me. Don’t you worry about me. Mama, don’t you worry about me. Don’t you worry about me. {Carrie Underwood}

JULY 9, 2022: “Superman Has LEFT The Building” …

Indeed, it is true that Superman really has left the building. But guess what, people? The Wonder Woman he left behind is still doing A-OK! Yes, I know, this video is SUPER long, but I PROMISE that it’s well worth watching!

Meanwhile …

I seriously DO love my incredibly absurd but insanely beautiful life, up to and including every single jacked up and twisted thing that has happened FOR me, not TO me!

Exactly how many girls do you know who can legitimately say they had a real life superhero step off of an elevator and help her save her own life? Yup! I CAN! Jean-Claude Van DAMN, I’m one hell of a lucky woman. As it turns out, though, it wasn’t actually Superman who carried me in his arms to get me where I am today. It was MY own divinely punctuated strength, power, and grace that carried me here today.

Superman did, however, help me find all those gifts I already had hiding within me. As it turned out, he had someplace else he needed to be, like maybe “stuck at the five and dime”, but NOT before making sure I had this cape and crown of my own. He must have gotten stuck at the five and dime.

Ah, and now THIS is where I get to the BEST part of this hero’s tale:

Hi everyone! It’s me, CAT! I’m a miracle, the REAL Wonder Woman, and God’s ACTUAL favorite daughter!

JULY 11, 2022: “It’s Times Like These” …

Although it dropped a few days ago and I’d already given it a couple spins, because I’ve been preoccupied and unable to really dig into it the way I prefer when any new Death Punch drops, it wasn’t until today while answering a Quora question about mental illness that I really sat down and dug:

It’s nights like this, under a harvest moon. It came too fast and it’s gone too soon. A wilted rose and a frozen tomb. A memory for the wind. Anyway …
Does anybody notice that the sky is falling? Are we all just happy in the rain? Am I the only one who hears the sirens calling? Am I the only one who feels the pain? I read all the pages from the left to right. I took one in the morning and one at night. The fire still burns, but it’s cold inside. It’s all that I can do. Anyway …
No one wants to talk about the end is coming. Pointing fingers, handing out the blame. If I gave you answers to all your questions, could you change, or would you stay the same?
It’s times like these when the sorrow shadows all the laughter.
It’s times like these when the hurt goes on and on forever. It’s times like these I wanna fade away.
It’s times like these when left is right and forward’s backwards.
It’s times like these when days and nights just roll together.
It’s times like these I wanna fade away.
{“Times Like These” by Five Finger Death Punch}

WOW! Just WOW! How the fuck does he manage to do this? Just like clockwork and always right on cue, that FUCKER I love so very much managed to find an unexpressed storm of thoughts in my head that I didn’t even know existed and pull them out of me for reckoning.

Trust me, I get it. I totally fucking do! I’ve had a front row seat to the SHIT SHOW for the majority of my life and know exactly how it feels to want to fade away. Been there. Done that. I’ve got the proverbial straight jacket and yet the softest, most tender, stitched together, steel-encrusted heart to prove it, not to mention the unfortunate privilege of having to watch the dying soul of a person I loved literally fade away.

But let me ask you this

If you could have all the answers to your questions, would you really change or would you stay the same? And what if I told you that the truth of the matter is that some questions just aren’t meant to be answered? What if our “assignment” is to simply roll with all these fucking punches, win, lose, or draw, and go screeching into the bull pen more like Ferdinand the flower smeller than Bodacious with his reign of destruction and terror?

But Cat, how the FUCK did you hear this song and end up standing at a bullfight?

Somehow, the haunting intro to this song with its echoes of what seem like my ancestors calling to me, channeled me back to either the wild, wild west or some ancient arena in Spain where kill or be killed was the fucking assignment, much like it is today during “times like these” when we’re all just fighting not only to survive, but fighting for the will to survive.

The late, great French philosopher, Albert Camus, who is one of my favorite “absurdists“, once said these most powerful words:

You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.

Well, I am here to tell you he was dead on giant BULL BALLS accurate! Happiness is what we make of it, even in the midst of falling skies. Pray GOD we all make it to the finish line in one piece with the power and grace of a Ferdinand and as many roses that we can possibly gather, wilted as some of them may be, and not like a Bodacious standing before a frozen tomb full of regret, disdain, and misery.

As and aside, I think I’m finally beginning to understand why I’m obsessed with grey skies and stormy weather. They’re a constant reminder that even though the sky falls from time to time, as if to scream at me in rage and provocation, at the end of the day I’m always gonna be okay, because it’s times like these that made me who I am.

Left, right, forwards, backwards, inside or fucking OUT, the fact of the matter is that these SHIT STORMS are gonna keep coming. So, I’ll just keep myself buckled up for the most epic ride of my life while I’m hunting for roses and laughing as often I can. I’ll make my own happiness on my own fucking terms while screaming back at the falling sky, “Guess what, Bodacious? I’m still here riding! You lose! I WIN!”

JUNE 19, 2022: “Lifetime” …


I called to say hello, but then remembered that you can’t pick up the phone. I miss the way your voice always used to take all the pain away. The thought is still unimaginable that I saw your face that very last time and didn’t even know it.

Now, we’re all walking around in a haze. Yes, there are many colors, but mostly every shade of grey, and although you did absolutely show us the way whenever we were lost and alone, you never really showed us to let you go. That, we’ve had to figure out on our own.

Never again will I look into the only eyes that ever knew me, but then again, only God knows whether that’s really true. For now, I’ll just keep looking into my own eyes instead and seeing myself through those lenses of yours that helped me rise to my own reflection and finally find my “beautiful”.

Sometimes I physically feel that bullet that ran through you running straight through me, which is always a bittersweet and tragic reminder of how fragile our human souls can be. Even so, you added so many things to all our lives that we didn’t even know were missing, and for that reason alone and even despite all the FUCKED UP things you did in the wake of your insanity, we’ll keeping leaving that part out and ALWAYS celebrating you on Father’s Day as the one who showed us all what being a father was really about.

You were the one that we weren’t supposed to lose. We thought we’d have you for a lifetime. So, now who do I talk to when I want to talk to you? Oh, that’s right, I’ll just keep on talking to you, because even though you’re already on the brighter side of all this grey, I get to have you with me for the rest of my lifetime.

{Words adapted from “Lifetime” by Three Days Grace}

~ Catherine

JUNE 15, 2022: “Anything BUT Ordinary” …

It seems to me that some people will do just about anything to avoid being considered “ordinary”, when the truth is that being “ordinary” is actually EXTRAORDINARY! I mean, c’mon, people …


Imagine seeing the world through your own eyes and not someone else’s? Imagine living inside your own skin’s design and not being ashamed to wear it loud, proud, and exquisitely everywhere you go?

Imagine not giving one single FUCK how people see you and finally untangling yourself from the web that’s enmeshed, suffocated, and muted you all the while and kept you from living inside your own story and not the one you were expected to live in?

Imagine an existence that you don’t need to put on display? Imagine owning the most authentic version of yourself and not having to pretend to be someone you’re not?

Imagine living without the pressure that comes along with farce, pretense, and jumping through hoops just to get everyone’s attention, then waking up one morning, taking a good, hard, honest look in the mirror, and asking yourself this most important question:

Wait! What’s so wrong with being your true, authentic, “ordinary” self without any farce, pretense, or jumping through hoops to get everyone’s attention?

CAN YOU? Can you imagine it? Imagine walking happily along as just another face in the crowd with your “ordinary” head held way up high because you’ve finally figured out that you don’t have to prove a damn single thing to any person ever, except that is, yourself and the God you serve?

Look, I’m not saying that I don’t care about life in general or the many beautiful people in it, because the truth being told, I VERY MUCH DO! It’s just that at this point in the game, being nothing (which makes me EVERYTHING) is my favorite thing to be.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – the only opinion that really matters to me at all is God’s, and my own, and, of course, my children. I am so much more than my labels or identities, and so much more than the box that those labels and identifies formerly kept me in. I am of myself, for myself, and with myself until the end, and ordinary is just amazing.

Besides? Who can ever have power over a person who doesn’t really give a fuck what people think about them anyway? Keep your power. Hold your head high. TAKE HOLD OF YOUR ORDINARY and be anything BUT!


Whose eyes am I behind? I don’t recognize anything that I see. Whose skin is this design? I don’t want this to be the way that you see me. I don’t understand anything anymore, and this web that I’m tied up is taking me right up these walls that I climb up to get to your story – It’s anything but ordinary. And when the world is on its knees with me, it’s fine. And when I come to the rescue, I get nothing but left behind. Everybody seems to be getting what they need. Where’s mine? ‘Cause you’re what I need so very but I’m anything but ordinary. Can you save me from this world of mine before I get myself arrested with these expectations? You are the one, look what you’ve done! What have you done? This is not some kind of joke. You’re just a kid. You weren’t ready for what you did, no! And when the world is on its knees with me, it’s fine. And when I come to the rescue, I do it for you time after time. Everybody seems to be getting what they need. Where’s mine? ‘Cause you’re what I need so very but I’m anything but ordinary. I think I’m trying to save the world for you. You’ve been saving me, too. We could just stay and save each other. I’m anything but ordinary. I’m anything but ordinary. {Train}

MAY 21, 2022: “I’m Writing This In Case I’m Gone Tomorrow” …

… because some memories are so much better than others, ESPECIALLY ones like these that remind you yet again that although the MOST beautiful season you shared with him is over, the many powerful and life-changing words of affirmation he wrote across your heart are not.

THIS, my friends, is how I became a queen, and THESE are the brighter sides of even my darkest of greys that help me leave out all the rest of the actual heaping piles of bullshit he left behind in his insanity.

He loved me. He believed in me. He always saw the very best in me. He supported everything I ever did, said, thought, or wanted. He said I could be ANYTHING I dreamt of because I wasn’t cut from the same cloth as anyone else he’d ever met, and guess what, people?


I’m proud of myself right now for seeing this “memory” today and not shedding a single tear. Rather, all I could do is smile with pride, because after all was said and done, and although at first I couldn’t see the me he saw on those days he’d FORCE me to look at myself in a mirror and try to see myself through his eyes, I see her loud and fucking clear these days not only every time I HAPPILY look into a mirror, but even more so when I look at my kids. They are my legacy. They are the reason he fought so hard for me to make peace with my own reflection.

In my heart, I think he always knew he wouldn’t be here with me until the end, which is why he was hell bent on preparing to LITERALLY rise above his ashes. God knew it, too, so maybe that’s why God sent him to me in the first place, just as maybe I was meant to be HIS “crowning achievement”. The day he died, I became his legacy, and so on the circle goes …

Hi everyone! It’s me, the REAL Cat Williamson, and I’m writing this to my kids just in case I’m gone tomorrow. Always remember that your mama was the badass phoenix QUEEN he left behind to handle things in his place in all her power, grace, and glory, and ALWAYS remember to be this IMPECCABLE with all your words. Someday they may actually save someone’s life.

MAY 15, 2022: “Mother THINGS And Monsters” …

Okay, so let’s clarify this whole “mother THING” dealio once and for all!

While there are probably a fair amount of people who feel this way but aren’t as willing to openly admit it, I personally believe there should be NO mercy, grace, or forgiveness whatsoever for “mother THINGS” that (not “who”) mindfully and willfully either cause or allow grave harm to a child of their own womb.

Judge not others lest ye be judged. (Matthew 7:1-3)

Yet, are the THINGS that are capable of inflicting grave harm upon their children even “human” at all and therefore subject to God’s disdain of judging or wishing them actual hell?

I really can forgive anyone for just about anything, and as God is my witness, I HAVE! But I’ll just keeping taking people on a case-by-case basis. The Devil’s Own really do walk among us, but I’m not even sure they’re “people”. They’re a different kind of breed “thing” altogether. I’m not quite sure I’ll ever get to the point that I stop avidly praying that God really DOES sort us all out in the end. I’m just a mortal human, not a god or Jesus Christ, so I’ll just keeping asking for “forgiveness” for not being too excited about the idea of “mercy for the merciless”.

(“They Walk Amongst Us” … from The Diary Of My Perfection}

Just to be clear, I’m not simply talking about selfish, inattentive, ill-prepared, immature, or narcissistic moms who are truly oblivious to the damage they cause their children. Been there, done that, and trust me when I say that we are a collective wrecking ball crew to our own. I may be sanctimonious at times, but I’m not even gonna deny my own regrettable crimes against my children.

I wear the hearts of two children on my sleeve who are still navigating the wreckage my former tragic mothering and weak mental health caused them, so any shame or guilt I’ve suffered for not having done better sooner is well-deserved. Have they forgiven me? Yes. Have I forgiven myself? Yes. Have they forgotten? Absolutely NOPE, nor shall they ever, and nor shall I. If they have to remember everything, then why should I be afforded the luxury of “I FUCKED UP MY KIDS AMNESIA”?

That being said, if, like me, you have fucked up your kids but are able to acknowledge, account, and atone for it, indeed I believe there is mercy and grace to be found. Owning up to my parenting flubs and “remembering everything” with them is what keeps me growing forward as a stronger, wiser, and healthier mom who is determined to break the generations of cyclically egregious parenting on my tree. Let’s face it, people, you can’t fix something you don’t think is broken, and that includes ourselves. De-NILE was for little baby Moses, my friends, and in a basket I am not.

Meanwhile, I am talking about the seriously life-altering and mind-bending crimes against at the hands of “mothers” that NO CHILD deserves to suffer through. Here are just a few that come to mind:

  • Throwing their babies in the trash or just leaving them out in the freezing fucking cold on a curb or even a doorstep.
  • Murdering them, drowning them, choking them, setting fire to them, burying them alive, locking them in closets, caging, or chaining them like a rabid fucking animal, starving, burning them, or “sticking stuff” in places where stuff isn’t supposed to be stuck in them until they are grown ass adults who consent!
  • Coat-hanger SLAUGHTERING or letting a medically sanctioned hired hitman SHANK them in late term utero right through their already formed little skulls, beating hearts, seeing eyes, hearing ears, and feeling spinal cords. (YUP! I just went there!)

None of these horrors are forgivable to me, and even a crocodile mommy instinctually knows better than to intentionally torment a life she bears in such detestable ways.

Look, there’s NO such thing as a perfect mom, because after all, most of us are only human. But sooner or later, even the worst of us wrecking ball mommies can grow up, take a sobering look at the body count on the battlefield of our children’s lives and the failed flights we caused, APOLOGIZE, move on, then just do fucking BETTER!

It is my avid prayer that these THINGS will eventually be dealt with accordingly and made to pay for their crimes against the humanity they made and BROKE! I can’t imagine that God will take such travesties lightly, as when He blessed women with a womb, it would seem that He did so with the intention of populating the world, NOT destroying it. I literally have no sympathy whatsoever for “things” posing as “people” that deliberately and intentionally violate, traumatize, or cause harm to actual human beings without remorse.

I’ll never forget the day in 2016 when my secretly crumbling husband, whose own mother THING discarded him, heard it for the first time while we were driving. The stoic tears that fell from his eyes in that moment still haunt me. After that, he would play it often and always said it made him think about that “thing” that gave birth to him.

Now, I’m not saying that every child of a mother THING grows up to be a monster, but the truth is many do. I’m also not saying that my husband was a monster, but in the end there was a monster living inside his head that he felt he had to stop from hurting us any further, and thus the bullet to his head.

Dear Mothers:

Remember … WE CREATED THEM! All they are is pieces of what we are. We’re their Sun, their Moon, their Earth, their stars, and the actual air they breathe. We make them. We can break them. Be mindful of the power that you wield!

If YOU are a mother THING that is reading this, here’s hoping that the fate you meet is far greater than anything you ever did to one of your own. Also? YOU’RE GROSS!

More than that, if you are THE CHILD of a mother THING who is reading this, YOU DIDN’T FUCKING DESERVE THAT! Just because everyone isn’t as openly angry at the THING that was supposed to love you more than her own life itself as I am, it doesn’t mean you aren’t thought of, cared for, prayed over, and deeply loved by more of us than you will ever know. Don’t you DARE let yourself be defined by the monster that brought into this world or think for one minute that God didn’t see it ALL!


Under the knife I surrendered. The innocence yours to consume. You cut it away and you filled me up with hate. Into the silence you sent me. Into the fire consumed. You thought I’d forget, but it’s always in my head. You’re the pulse in my veins. You’re the war that I wage. Can you change me? Can you change me? You’re the love that I hate. You’re the drug that I take. Will you cage me? Will you cage me? You’re the pulse in my veins. You’re the war that I wage. Can you change me? Can you change me from the monster you made me? The monster you made me? This is the world you’ve created. The product of what I’ve become. My soul and my youth? Seems it’s all for you to use. If I could take back the moment I’d let you get under my skin. Relent or resist? Seems the monster always wins. You’re the pulse in my veins. You’re the war that I wage. Can you change me? Can you change me? You’re the love that I hate. You’re the drug that I take. Will you cage me? Will you cage me? You’re the pulse in my veins. You’re the war that I wage. Can you change me? Can you change me from the monster you made me? From the monster you made me? My heart’s an artifice, a decoy soul. I lift you up and then I let you go. I’ve made an art of digging shallow holes. I’ll drop the darkness in and watch it grow. Who knew the emptiness could be so cold? I’ve lost the parts of me that make me whole. I am the darkness. I’m a monster. {Starset}

MAY 11, 2022: “The SON Will Shine Again” …

After a downright harrowing weekend of watching my daughter hit a pretty big emotional wall, having her home safe with me for a couple of extra days as we worked her through a process, then finally having to take her back to school, I’d been doing everything within my mommy powers not to text her during the day to just make sure she was okay. She had enough on her plate just walking onto the campus in the first place, and she, like me, all but dreads even “wanted” text messages when she’s trying to get out of her own head.

Meanwhile, I get this “is she okay” text from her ride or die bestie who didn’t even know she was already back at school. Knowing my child like I know her, although she probably very much “needed” to see her friends today, she was probably doing her best to avoid seeing her friends today to protect them from her perceived burden of struggling emotions. Learning to lean a support system is hard enough when your adult, much less when you’re a teenage girl whose “tribe” has somehow managed to band together from an array of equally struggling and burdened yolks. But hey, that’s another story for a different day, right?

Despite the brief moment of panic after receiving the text from Five (“Five”, by the way, because she’s like my “fifth child”), how blessed are we both that she finally has friends like this in her atmosphere who care for her so much so that they’ll even resort to reaching out to her dear ole mom when they notice that she’s gone missing? God Himself knows that it wasn’t always this way for her. Indeed there was a time, not too long ago, when she could have been missing for a week or two on end and not one of her putrid “frenemies” would have cared, much less have taken the time to go looking for her.

After having all but begged her to go find her people as she was getting out of the car today and not isolate herself the way we both tend to do only to be alerted to the sobering fact that she was indeed MIA, all I could do was literally hit my knees at the foot of the panic chair in my room and beg God to cover her with His love and protection as she navigates her internal storm.

It’s 95 degrees here in Dallas, today, not a single cloud anywhere in the sky, and because I was so focused on her all weekend long, I was thankfully focused on a barrage of neglected chores. I say thankfully because, for me, keeping busy on a day like this is just … BETTER! Meanwhile, there I was just standing and the kitchen counter sorting out the trash from her perch when one of my favorite songs of this lifetime cycled up to the cue.

This sweet song that I first heard over 25 years ago has gotten me through SO many dark days of my own, ever the consummate “light in the dark”, so much so that my words fail to properly express it. So, what are the chances that my “music wheel of destiny” would magically spin it up to me this morning as though God Himself knew I would need to hear it when I saw my Mona Lisa’s “smile” fall to the floor?

I won’t go into details about the black clouds looming in her sky right now, because not only is it just too overwhelming and tender at the moment, it’s not my place to share the intimate details of her private mental health journey. Sufficed to say, though, I’m in a pure power and grace momma bear survival mode for BOTH my kids’ sake these days, have been for many months now, and will be until both their suns rise again.

But guess what?

I once knew a girl who had lost everything. The story goes but it doesn’t end in misery. Down the road of circumstance awaited reality, ’cause she found a new beginning. You see, that girl was me.

I know her sun will shine again before her dreams fade away. I’ll just remember there’s a Savior who will brighten up her day. I know the sun will shine again … on her.

{Words Adapted from “The Sun Will Shine Again” by David & The Giants}

Yes, I’m a roller coaster of raw emotion today, but thank you GOD that I’ve survived so storms of my own that I know now more than ever that I have to keep my own oxygen mask on tighter than ever so that I can catch my babies when they’re falling.

This parenting gig ain’t for the faint of heart, my friends, and especially as a relatively new widowed and single mom who on the surface appears to have no partner to weather the stormy seas with. The truth is, though, that I very much do have a partner in my parenthood and I am never all alone. This precious paper smiley face falling to the floor is proof positive that I have learned to trust and lean on my Father, Who indeed is greater than this storm. I know her Sun will shine again, and so will mine keep shining. After all, I’m still God’s favorite daughter, and now that I think of it, so is she.


I hear you say you’re going through  a big ordeal. Complications  … your heart is breaking … you can’t see through. Time goes by. You don’t know why you can’t find the clue. Seem s the night is always darkest before the morning light. Life  is filled with fire and rain and winds of change. Seems as though the things we know are misunderstood. But  the trying of our faith is working for the good, ’cause we learn to trust our Father Who is greater than the storm. I know The Son will shine again before your dreams fade away. Just remember there’s a Savior. He’ll brighten up your day. I know The Son will shine again on you. I once knew a man who had lost everything. The story goes, but it doesn’t end in misery. Down the road of circumstance waits reality, ’cause he found a new beginning. You see, that man was me. I know The Son will shine again before your dreams fade away. Just remember there’s a Savior. He’ll brighten up your day. I know The Son will shine again on you. I’ve never seen the righteous forsaken or stranded in the rain. Close your eyes now. Wake up and proclaim! I know The Son will shine again before your dreams fade away. Just remember there’s a Savior … He’ll brighten up your day! I know The Son will shine again on you. {David & The Giants}

MAY 8, 2022: “One Son’s Angel” …

~ Evelyn Pansy Williamson ~
(One Son’s Angel)

FEBRUARY 16, 2022:

Dear Mr. Witherspoon,
Someday when I get the chance to properly put it down in words, I’m going to explain how much your music meant to my late husband. The first time I ever saw the man (who was our “rock”) cry was when he played me Angel’s Son, then explained why. His “mother” threw him away when he was born, then the only woman who ever loved or cared for him in his lifetime before me was his Grandma. When she died literally right in front of him at age 13, I’m certain that’s when he stopped living and growing and was only “dead alive” until we lost him to suicide 910 days ago this moment actually.
A few years ago, we were in downtown Ft Worth on a surprise weekend getaway for ME – eating at this FINE restaurant near a window that looked down to a square where he had NO idea you were playing. It was one of THE happiest moments of his twisted existence, and the pure joy on his face that night is still seared into my memories. Thank GOD for that, too, because those truly JOY moments for him were fleeting.
Anyway, I just thought I’d share. I’m blogging “Angel’s Son” in honor of his Grandma on Mother’s Day – I’ll send it to you then. Hope this very long message wasn’t too annoying. Your music means a lot to me because it meant so much to him. You’re a king, my friend.
~ Real Cat


MAY 8, 2022:

Life is changing … but I am going on without you. Rearranging, yeah. I’m being strong standing on my own. You were fighting every day. So hard to hide the pain. I know you never said goodbye. I had so much left to say. One last song given to an angel’s son. As soon as you were gone. As soon as you were gone.
We love you.
~ Us


And so, with that, I suppose I’ve conveyed what finally needed to be conveyed about “the angel” and her otherwise motherless son. I cannot tell you how many times he told me over the years, “Catherine, I wish you could have known her”. Ah, but what that silly boy never realized is that I very much did know her. Every tear that fell from his eyes during the many times he would talk about her told me everything his many words and many silences could never say, as well did the tears he cried whenever he would listen to this song.

As with every Mother’s Day I’ve since had to or will ever spend without him, today is so twisted and bittersweet. On one hand, I am privileged to celebrate not just the gift of my motherhood, but the gifts of my mother beautiful Mother and angel Grandmother as well, it was on this day in May 2019 when he started coming apart at the seams. For that reason, this day will always be a rollercoaster of deep joy and intense sadness for me.

He had just gone up to say goodbye to Gia before heading off to work that morning. As he made it to that last step on the way back down, he just stopped there dead in his tracks and started sobbing, much like the day at the kitchen window a few months before. When I asked him what was wrong, the words he spoke were all but paralyzing:

That whore that gave birth to me just threw me the fuck away. My own mother didn’t want me. She never did. She never will. I really AM a Zack Of Shit!

It’s a moment that haunts me still as though I were seeing him standing there and hearing the abysmal, scathing truth in those words as they fell from his mouth for the first time every time I’m sitting in the chair in my office where I was that Godforsaken Mother’s Day morning.

“The Staircase”

There he stood at the end of that beautiful staircase I love to hate so much, the “rock” of our world and the king of our hearts, just slipping down the cold, black hole that “mother THING” that buried him alive in on the day she left him behind like a piece of garbage on the street. Virtually every day and night for the months that followed until he left, he suffered, cried, ached, and sobbed, sometimes in the fetal position, for not just her, but the entire lot of them. All Gia and I could do was helplessly watch him dying out loud right before our eyes as he battled the actual demon that moved into his mind and destroyed not just him, but my daughter and me as well.

That angel on Earth beautiful Grandmother of his truly was the first and only other woman who ever really loved him other than me and my daughter. For that we will forever be thankful that not only did she exist, but that she was one of the few bright stars in his sky.

Today, in both their honors, we will not only take flowers to her grave for the first but certainly not last time, but we will also take some of the ashes the rest of his “family” couldn’t be bothered to come get and take home to bury in the ground at her grave where they truly belong.

APRIL 24, 2022: “My Perfectly Mistaken Quarters” …

… ’cause when it’s a 4:30am covert meeting of a pirate sage and his faithful crew, this shit just hits a little bit harder. Jean-Claude Van DAMN he’s so right …


It’s taken all of the people in the history of my family tree, and the masterful compilation of their comings and goings, hunting and gathering, scavenging and foraging, falling and rising, destroying and building, sinking and swimming, killing and conquering, lying and truth telling, silence and screaming, plus some perfectly imperfect genetic coding to create this glorious fucking STORM I am.

I’ve known long well that I’m a jacked up train wreck of a beautiful disaster. It was my equally jacked up train wreck of a beautiful disaster husband who would physically hold me in the mirror when I couldn’t see my own reflection and force me to say these words out loud:

I love you Catherine Williamson! Not just some of you – ALL of you!

My husband found me (or did I find him?) when I was at my rock bottom worst in every possible mental and physical way:

For 16 years I have searched for my own reflection in another person’s eyes, but could never find it. I looked in the mirror and felt ugly. I felt dirty, empty, and invisible. I see the way people look at me but have never understood it. What the hell could anyone possibly see? There’s nothing here. I’m hollow. “Lights, smoke, and illusion!” Please, please, please Henrik, hear what I am saying. Last July, when it was finally time for the doctors to take the bandages off my chest and stomach, I came home and couldn’t even walk past a mirror, much less look inside one. I knew then that my destruction was finally complete, but just didn’t know how to reckon myself with the reality. That’s when I decided to not EVER search for my missing reflection again, whether in a mirror or through the eyes of another! I just gave up. Two full days passed before I was finally able to take my shirt off and I couldn’t actually look at myself for weeks. When the day finally came, I just stood there and cried. I touched my scars, held my stomach, dropped down to my bathroom floor, and cried for so many hours you can’t imagine. I have played the game very well I might add with the cards I’ve been dealt in a manner that would cause no one I love to suffer.
{“So Far Away“}

It was his unconditional love for me just the way I was that chased away the clouds of “imperfection” that had once loomed over my head. Slowly, but surely, I became less afraid to surrender “all of me” to not just my love for him, but the love I’d always needed for myself.

God Himself knows how much I do truly love myself now, PERFECT MISTAKES AND ALL, and not a day passes that I don’t still stand in the mirror and literally see my husband, my God, my angels, my ancestors, and even a few of my demons standing right behind me whispering:

You’ve got this, Catherine! You’re our reason! You’re our gift! You’re our scion, our message, and our voice!

They’re the pirates who came before me and zephyrs in my sky who forged this path and built this mountain for me to stand tall on as they push me forward into the perpetual state of punctuation and magic that I’ve become as I navigate this sea of madness. In the meantime, as I continue to soar through these fleeting golden years of mine,

I’ll be wearing steel that’s bright and true and carrying news that must get through. I’ll choose the path where no-one goes. I’ll hold no quarter, no quarter, oh!

{Words Adapted from “No Quarters” by Led Zeppelin}

I love you dearly, Ivan Moody, my kindred soul and friend. I cannot tell you how long I’ve waited for the perfect time, space, and words to blog this song. It was one of his favorites, and I listen to it often. He truly believed that he was a pirate in another life, and the first time I ever heard him say it, I thought he was just being silly. He wasn’t. Every single time that man stared out across an ocean amid our many adventures, he insisted that he’d been out there before. The funny thing is that while searching for the missing pieces of himself that he’d never known anything about because of his abysmal childhood, the Ancestry report we fetched really did seem to point in that direction. Meanwhile, here I am, just swabbing the deck of my proverbial ship, and I cannot thank you enough. Your words of wisdom and the magic in your alchemy never cease to amaze me. I truly hope that they’re blowing through the sails of some other jacked up pirates’ sails, too.


Close the door, put out the light. No, I won’t be home tonight. The snow falls hard and don’t you know? The winds of Thor are blowing cold. I’m wearing steel that’s bright and true and carrying news that must get through. I choose the path where no-one goes. I hold no quarter, no quarter, oh! Walking side-by-side with death. The devil mocks my every step, ooh. The snow drives back the foot that’s slow. The dogs of doom are howling more. I carry news that must get through to build a dream for me and you, oh, oh, oh. This path I choose where no one goes … I hold no quarter, oh. {Led Zeppelin}

APRIL 6, 2022: “What Would Elsa Do?” …

As Elsa from that “Frozen” movie once said over, and over, and over again … “Let ’em go! Let’ em go! Let all those driveway bullshitters GO!” Okay, so maybe that’s not how the song really goes, but you HAVE to get my drift! NO THING and NO ONE is ever worth making yourself physically ill and literally “inflamed and swollen”!

If you are the one emitting the noxious, toxic fume that’s making the people around you physically ill, “inflamed”, and “swollen”: DON’T BE A TOXIC WASTELAND! There’s a “Real Cat” name for you here in this Diary, and umm, do you really want to be thought of as a “Drinking Straw Parasite“?

I now return you to your regularly scheduled programming, but not until you go ahead and listen to this oh so cliche’ freakin’ Disney princess song about why you need to just LET GO of the toxins in your life. Whether you’re ingesting them or emitting them … LET ‘EM GO!

APRIL 4, 2022: “The Grey High” …

Ain’t it funny how things happen? I mean, c’mon people … do any of you still only believe in random coincidence? As I’m sitting here writing this, I’m yummily wrapped up in one of the king’s grey sweaters that on any other given Monday would have traveled in Gia’s backpack to her dad’s house. But for the fact that I just happened to be doing laundry last night instead of on my regularly scheduled Sunday, it wouldn’t have been here to greet me this morning when I decided to just make it a “grey day” and stay home to enjoy the peaceful oblivion of my happily solitary existence. Hell, I wasn’t even done reveling in and relishing the last four beautiful days I had of time spent with my precious kids and family, the message I got from Skid Row, and that fucking EPIC German schnitzel sandwich situation. I mean, BRING IT you badass fucking Cosmos


Meanwhile, I popped on to the Instagram earlier today only to find that while I was busy “queening” around the castle in one of the best “grey highs” I’ve had in months, that today marked yet another powerful Death Punch moment. It was the release of the official “Brighter Side Of Grey” video:

It’s hard to believe that our last record “F8” came out over 2 years ago in the beginning of 2020, born into the whirlwind of events that dominated our lives and will echo into the rest of our history. Those of you intimately familiar with that album, now know how some of F8’s dystopian lyrics became rather prophetic. Brighter Side of Grey was an important song on that record, but especially personal to Ivan (who’s the only parent in the band). It is a more than fitting commentary to what’s going on in the world that probably needs a good reminder right about now that we are here only for second, a tiny blip on the flow of time… not just as individuals but as an entire species. It took a trillion conditions to be just right for human life to exist in this Universe, yet it takes just one to go terribly wrong and make it all disappear. This song also serves as the perfect bridge to our new album we just finished this week, which generally revolves around similar existential questions. It’s incredible how much we don’t understand about our own existence, yet everyone’s relationship with the concept of death permeates, even orients their entire lives. Can’t wait to share it… enjoy this video and stay tuned for new music and big tour announcements in the very near future!

In case you didn’t get the memo yet, this isn’t just another song and grey isn’t just a color. “The Brighter Side Of Grey” is an entire mindset and way of life for me:

Grey is not just a color to me – IT’S EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN! It’s the grace I’ve received that is so undeserved yet given to me anyway by The One who has never loved me with black and white conditions. He “takes the best parts of me and locks them away without the key” and I know that He is never far away. He’s the Light that shines ahead of my journey and dilutes the blackness of the abyss into the most beautiful shades of grey. For more than four decades, I lived a black and white existence with no room for the forlorn grey I knew I needed but didn’t know how to connect with. As I look back at this picture now, I’m filled with the most unbelievable solace you can imagine. It reminds me of just how far I’ve comethat it was always supposed to be this way, and there is always a “Brighter Side Of Grey”. I’m not gonna lie … it is now my final wish that when it’s time for me to move along, this is the last song I hear as they bid me farewell.
{“The Brighter Side Of Grey“}

I could keep going on about the “grey” of it all, but honestly, I’m so done writing about it. Now, I just want to live in it! I want to sit back, relax, and inhale all my life nuggets of goodness.

Today is a good day in the music world, people. Not just for the factions of knuckleheads like me who’ve been anxiously waiting for this video, but likewise for anyone who sees it, hears the words, and really bites in to its sobering and bittersweet message.

This life we’re living really is just a blip, and yes, the lights will go down. So, do everything in your power to ensure that when that door closes behind you for the very last time, you leave a light on for your people and not just a darkened void. It’s how you’ll become “nothing, everything, and ALL of it” and leave this place better than you found it.

APRIL 2, 2022: “The Day Of The Epic Schnitzel Sandwich” …

It’s been a “brighter side” kinda day, and this little beacon of light shining on an intersection between me and the kids’ dad was powerful.

Jean-Claude Van DAMN, my kids’ father has done way too many things to count to make think about literally running him over. FYI, I wouldn’t really run anyone over, so simmer down if you’re thinking about calling Dateline NBC right now. At “fifty-TWO-good-to-be-true” years old and not far from “fifty-THREE-it’s-SO-good-to-be-me“, if I’d been capable of actually running someone over, I’m certain it would have happened by now. But I’ve digressed!

My point is that this very German man who I’ve loved to hate so many times really has pissed me off during the course of our lifetime with our kids together (because after all, I’m such a perfect mom, lol). But guess what? Even after all the “way too many things” he’s pulled, THESE are the moments and stories I desperately want our kids to remember and tell their kids down the road.

Hey, BRATS! I mean “Crazy Grandma Cat’s grandkids“! Let me tell you a super cool story about your Grandpa and “the day of the epic schnitzel sandwich”!

To any “co-parenters” out there reading this right now, please remember that no matter how many times you’ve thought about running your baby’s momma or daddy over, or HOW many jacked up things they’ve done to you, if and when they do something epically right, be sure and give them the props they are due, and tell your kids the same. While no parent is perfect, and some of us can and have been nightmares, sometimes we manage to do things that are redeeming. When it happens, what could be the harm in saying, “Good job”?

Keep on looking for the brighter sides of all this grey, my parent friends. Embrace it when you find it and do what you can to change the toxic narrative being pipe-lined to your children’s psyches. Trust me when I say that not only will they likely look back and thank you for it, nuggets like these will serve their both mental wealth and their memories so much better than, “I’m pretty sure my mom wanted to run my dad over”. Just sayin’!

APRIL 1, 2022: “Show Me A Sign” …

… ’cause when you see a random picture then immediately hear one of your “Top 10” favorite life songs playing in your head, you know said picture wasn’t random:

Show me a sign to a light that shines one direction into another … sheltered peace of mind.

No, this isn’t just a random picture of a rock star hugging his daughter. It’s a message of hope and healing to every parent in this jacked up world who is hell bent on changing the generational curses and toxic narratives that have haunted their family tree for years.

This picture represents the unconditional love between a parent and their child that refuses to give up, and the possibility of better things to come for families like mine that have been broken by mental illness, addiction demons, and toxic cycles of their own. If you know, YOU KNOW … if you don’t, YOU DON’T … and if you don’t, you should literally get down on your knees and thank the heavens and stars.

Somewhere I lost a piece of memory, but somehow, I know my legs will carry me. Searching for circle’s end, hoping the wounds will mend.

Yes, it’s true. Somewhere I have lost so many pieces of my memory. But then again, no, I really haven’t. You see, it’s all the little jacked up, fucked up, and also very beautiful mental nuggets I keep stored in this rabbit-hole head of mine that keep me safely anchored to my own soul while I’m out there perpetually searching for the circle’s end. It’s also why I’m cosmically drawn to otherapostrophes” in this world who somehow manage to crash my pity parties with signs like these of positivity and optimism right on cue when my burgeoning pessimism needs to be redirected into better and more constructive thinking. It’s how I’ve managed to become the “nothing, everything, and all of it” that I am, and truth being told, I wouldn’t have it any other fucking way.

Today has been a very good day and I’m thankful for this “light in the dark”. Truth being told, I’ve been kinda struggling with some tired old, familial demons of my own as of late, so I really needed to see this picture and the video that inspired it to remind me to keep looking for the signs of hope as my legs carry me forward as the living embodiment of power and grace I’ve truly become.

As and aside, if you ever actually read this Ivan, please know that I am so beyond proud to know you, my Phoenix friend, even prouder of your “little girl”, and forever grateful for the many unintentional ways your journey has intersected with mine as my paths keep changing from one direction into another and I cross all these bridges alone (but never lonely). If that voice of yours was only ever meant to reach just one other person’s ears and make their internal voices a little messy, then I’d say you’re doing a bang up job! I hear you, see you, and feel you loud and clear, and I know I’m not the only one. Much love to you and yours, my friend. Keep on keepin’ on one day and “little nugget” at a time!


Slowly I heal the love that’s found its way on to another path in times of change. Crossing that bridge alone, hoping our strength will hold. Should they let go then let me lay. Let me lay. Show me a sign to a light that shines one direction into another – sheltered peace of mind. Somewhere I lost a piece of memory, but somehow I know my legs will carry me. Searching for circle’s end, hoping the wounds will mend. Should this scar, then it was meant to be. {Skid Row}
The Grey High

MARCH 23, 2022: “Change The Channel PLEASE!” …

I’ve said it before,

and I’ll say it again …

This ever-lovin’ man bashing biz is getting about as old as the crotchety, hate-filled, unkind women who will surely only grow as old and bitter as their toxic minds, tongues, hearts, and souls that are stuck on this same old tired channel.


It really does take two to tango, and umm, the last time I checked, Jesus’ beloved and truly saintly mother, Mary, is no longer here on the face of this Earth, so unless and until some crotchety and bitter man-hating bitch can show me the perfect human woman, I’m not standing for this “ALL MEN ARE” complete and total BULLSHIT narrative anymore. It’s getting tired, and old, and the horse is beaten and dead now. Mmmmkay? Thanks!

MARCH 19, 2022: “New York! New York!” …



Over Spring Break, I was both privileged and honored to have chaperoned a week-long trip to New York City sponsored by the art department at Gia’s high school. Fifteen teenagers, four museums, three Broadway shows, all five boroughs, and a lifetime of beautiful memories for she and I to add to our ever-growing adventure passport.

Of course, it goes without saying that given the less-than-optimal circumstances we could have been left in with Zack’s way too early departure, not only might I not have been able to even afford to send her on this trip, but I also probably wouldn’t have been able to chaperone it, either. With that, she and I were both ever mindful of the abundant blessings in our life courtesy of him, and rather than being said that he wasn’t actually there with us, we reveled in the pure joy of knowing that if, as we suspect, he can still see what we are doing, he was smiling ear to ear watching us live out our dreams and the many wishes he had for her. I didn’t take as many pictures as I could of, because I wanted to live this experience through my OWN lens and not the camera’s. These are just some highlights.

As and aside, I absolutely love New England, always have, always will, and being uprooted and whisked away LITERALLY overnight from my home, my childhood, grandfather, aunts, uncles, family, cousins, and one of the most beautiful places in this country was, indeed, my first true childhood “trauma”.

Meanwhile, it looks as though Gia is hooked, lined, and SINKERED, and will be going to art and design school somewhere on the east coast! I find no irony in this … just a beautiful, bittersweet circle in my life which a GAPING hole in it that will be coming into its full completion.

After everything this child has had to endure in life thus far, seeing the pure joy and true love for the overall New England vibe and aesthetic made my heart so happy. I believe with everything in my soul that New England is where she truly belongs. Only time will tell, I suppose, but now IS the time for her to start touring campuses. I’m down with that plan and also very excited for her!

MARCH 19, 2022: “The Price We Pay To Play” …

Useless news flash for all of you: Today is both “World Monopoly Dayand it’s 81st birthday! Yes, my friends, it was on this day eight decades ago that the iconic, monocle sporting, sharp dressed little dude we all know and love, “Rich Uncle Penny Bags” was born!

So, in keeping with the game play theme, I want to share something kinda poignant I’ve learned about playing games over the years … that is … there is a price to pay for rolling the dice. And no, I’m not necessarily talking about the metaphorical life games we play with peoples’ hearts and minds, I’m talking about the actual games we play for fun and jest like our beloved Monopoly.

You really can learn a lot about not just other people, but yourself as well, when playing recreational “games” with them. Watch how a person plays any kind of game, be them board games, cards, video games, and even sports, and you’ll catch a fairly authentic glimpse of not just their personality, but how they handle and present themselves in everyday, social, and business settings as well. If you pay close enough attention, you’ll likely be able to see their:

  • Ethics.
  • Morality.
  • Honesty.
  • Integrity.
  • Patience.
  • Humility.
  • Priorities.
  • Coping skills.
  • Jealousy.
  • Generosity.

If you pay even closer enough attention, you may be able to see their:

  • Ability to hold random conversations.
  • Sense of entitlement if there is one.
  • Ability to compromise and be flexible.
  • Ability to collaborate.
  • Ability to share.
  • Overall life goals and motivation.
  • Attitude about people in general.

Ya wanna know what kind of person you’re really dealing with in “real life”? Challenge them to a game of Monopoly, pop some popcorn, and observe! Of all the things you can garner about a person’s personality, many of which aren’t even listed above, perhaps the most telltale sign of who and what they really are is their attitude whether they win or lose. Do they accept defeat with anger, resentment, jealously, and tantrum, or do they accept it with a “win some or lose some” grain of salt”? Or if they win, do they become a pompous in your face ASSHOLE, or just stay humble and thankful that “this time” they won because “sometimes they don’t”?

Truth being told, I myself have learned a great many things about my own children, God love them both, having both watched and played play board games with them over the years. As it turns out, I’ve raised one shark and one saint, neither of whom I’ll identify by name to either protect their guilt or save their face, lol.

Meanwhile, one of my darlings has been known to literally flip the Monopoly board upside down in a fit of rage when the game isn’t going their way and takes great personal offense when they can’t manage to con someone into selling them ALL the prime real estate on the bougie block of the board. That’s also the same child who shows no mercy whatsoever when people land on their Boardwalk hotel and have to forfeit the game. Meanwhile, much like me, my other one simply walks away from lost board games like, “So what, I lost, but DAMN that was fun!” That’s the same one who feels awful and shares more than an abundance of grace, often to their own demise, when someone lands on their Boardwalk and is on the brink of their own demise.

I’m Jean Claude Van DAMN telling you people – BOARD GAMES are the “real deal” when it comes to reading people. And by the way, as I said at the beginning, this “game playing test” also works for ourselves. As I’ve gotten older and really homed in on the process of self-discovery, awareness, and accountability, I, too, have “checked and balanced myself” when I was playing a game by really thinking about “why” I either did or didn’t react in certain ways or think, say, or do certain things:

Damn, girl, why’d you do that? It’s JUST a game?”

… or …

Damn, girl, why’d you do that? Don you even WANT to win this game?

As far as I’m concerned, and in case you haven’t already figured this out by now in reading through my Diary, there really is a message in every moment and something to be learned in the process and outcome of every single thing in which we endeavor. EVEN SILLY BOARD GAMES! Yes, there sure is a price to pay for “playing games” with the truly discerning amongst us, that being the risk of showing who you really are. By the time the game is over though, the end will have justified the means, ’cause let’s be honest, folks, these days it’s getting harder to tell the difference between real and make believe. Whether or not we like it or will admit it, so many people are hiding from even themselves and pretending to be someone they’re not, so if Monopoly is what it takes to get someone to speak their truth with the simple roll of a dice, let the games begin!


Fail to see how destructive we can be. Taking without giving back ’til the damage can be seen. Can you see? Can you see? The more you take, the more you blame, but everything still feels the same. The more you hurt the more you scream. The price you pay to play the game. Then all you see and all you gave and all you step on with no shame. There are no rules, no one to blame. The price to play the game. Empathy, the chosen way to be. Blindly look the other way while you waste away with me. Can you see? Can you see? The more you take, the more you blame, but everything still feels the same. The more you hurt the more you scream. The price you pay to play the game. {Staind}

MARCH 13, 2022: “Like Water In A Cup” …

… that moment she sends you the screen shots of a conversation she had with a friend who’s in the midst of a struggle with her truly and insidiously toxic mother, only to read it and discover once again that yes, she really is listening to you, and yes, your dream for her really is coming true.

If you’ve been around this Diary long enough, by now you know I have a song for every moment, and in every one of my moments there’s a song. If I had a dollar for the countless number of times I’ve listened to and belted this one out loud to myself as a battle cry to remind me of exactly what I’m fighting for, then I’d could feed the world.

Do you want me to just listen, give you my thoughts, or offer advice? What would help you the most right now?

Pray GOD, how many times have I said those very words to her?

Everyone’s love is like water in a cup. The water in their cup is what they have to give …

And how many times have I said those exact words to her, too? I’m not gonna lie, folks, not 2.5 milliseconds after reading those words, “like water in a cup”, the waterworks began and I swear to HEAVEN that the first thought that came to my mind was the “the dream” in the words of this song.

My Mona Lisa made very much made me smile today, because after all that has been said and done, it’s becoming clearer to me each day that everything I’ve been praying for, fighting for, and dreaming about for her is coming to fruition.

As and aside, my daughter is far from perfect, just like her perfectly imperfect mom, and by no means am I attempting to canonize her into sainthood. She’s a normal and hormonal teenage girl, my friends, and truth being told, there are days when that little brat takes me toe to toe and drives me up literal walls. But if only you knew just exactly what she has been through in this lifetime thus far, and the actual demons she’s had to slay, you, like me, would be more inclined to expect that she’d have not only become a demon herself by now, but an extra cold and black one at that. She’s been broken in ways that no women should ever be broken, yet here she is spewing love, light, empathy, patience, understanding, and validation for another human being’s condition instead of the jaded toxicity that often accompanies the victims of the unfathomable crimes against her.

Likewise, by no means am a perfect parent. I have admittedly made way more than my fair share of mistakes, fails, and blunders. But this girl? My masterpiece? Although I have often felt that I don’t deserve her, evidently God believed I did, so, he charged me with her care even despite myself. She is every diamond in my jewel encrusted crown and exactly who I hope to be if and when I grow up. The more time passes, the more I can’t help but wonder whether my single greatest purpose and contribution to this world isn’t something I’m gonna do, but the children that I am raising.

SHE is my utmost achievement. SHE is the voice that will surely linger on as she continues lighting fires of her own with not just my words, but the brave and wise words of her own. SHE is the living expression of my life’s every song, and I am so blessed to call her my daughter. Today, as always, my “cup” truly runneth over.


If you wanna lead, be a leader. If you wanna dream, be a dreamer. Climb to the top of that mountain and SCREAM IT, but, remember when you get to the top … everything you say is gonna matter … everything you do is gonna add up. It’s what I’ve asked for. So, don’t lose heart when it’s not what you thought. Careful now, girl – avoid those Jezebel ways. Don’t wear a crown on your head, but be a queen of clichés. Soon you’ll be playing with the big girls, so make sure that you’re ready when it comes around!
If you wanna preach, be a preacher. If you wanna teach, be a teacher. Remember that the footprints you’re leaving will tell us all who you really are. Never forget to remember your worth … instead of spreading your legs, please just use your words. Character is shown by the things that we do. The one thing you’re never gonna hide is the truth. ‘Cause anyone can sell when they’re selling out, and anyone can fly when they’re falling down.
I had a dream that YOU were born a generation to behold! Lighting fires with your words instead of useless smoke that blurs the lines of right and wrong; expression that lives on; my army with a song that will linger when I’m gone. I had a dream!
{Adaptation of “I Had A Dream” by Kelly Clarkson}

MARCH 6, 2022: “I’m A Bitch, I’m A (Fill In The Blank)” …

Why yes,

Yes, it’s true …

I really am THE nicest bitch on the face of this planet, and this is me taking a moment for glorious pause, to loudly, proudly, and somewhat bitchily say …

Dear World,

Sometimes I hate the world today. It’s been so good to me, I know, but I won’t change. I’ve tried to tell you, but you look at me like maybe I’m an angel underneath, but I’m not so innocent and sweet.

Yesterday I cried. You must have been relieved to see the softer side. I can understand how you’d be so confused. I don’t envy you. I’m a little bit of everything all rolled into one.

I’m a bitch. I’m a lover. I’m a child. I’m a mother. I’m a sinner. I’m a saint, and I do not feel ashamed. I’m your hell. I’m your dream. I’m nothing in between. You know you wouldn’t want it any other way.

So, take me as I am. This may mean you’ll have to be a stronger person. Rest assured that when I start to make you nervous and I’m going to extremes, tomorrow I will change and today won’t mean a thing.

Just when you think you’ve got me figured out, the season’s already changin’. I think it’s cool you do what you do, but please don’t try to save me.

{Words Adapted by “Bitch” by Meredith Brooks}

Lol! I’m an experience, that’s for sure. To truly know me is to truly love me, but only the worthiest of the worthy will ever get to say I truly love them back. If you know, you know. If you don’t, you don’t. If you did, but then pissed your chance away to stay on the much brighter side of all my blacks and greys, well, sorry, but I’m not that damn sorry aboutcha at all. You snooze, you lose, and so the story goes.

For the record, there’s literal angel dust beneath my feet that are very much planted both on the ground and above it both at once, and just enough fire and ash to keep me perfectly imperfectly balanced and always soaring and balanced above this sea of madness I temporarily call home.

I’m truly amnothing, everything, and ALL OF IT“, but hey, at least I know EXACTLY who I fuck am and I own it – sometimes raving BITCH AND ALL! Riddle me this, my friends … exactly how many people in this world have you or will you ever know who will happily and proudly admit that there the most worthless, useless, AND valuable commodity anyone could ever have the privilege of knowing? I’m guessing the answer is, “Yah, maybe not so much.”

So, with that … I bid you adieu … ’cause this temporary bitch session is now over.

MARCH 1, 2022: “Nothing. Everything. ALL OF IT!” …

I saw this powerful quote today that really hit close to home. It was kinda like a sucker punch, but in every best possible way:

Do not think that enlightenment is going to make you special. IT’S NOT! If you feel special in any way, then enlightenment has NOT occurred.


That’s it! I knew I was on to something the moment I finally realized that:


… because I’m NOTHING!

I know, I know! I’ve said it so many times now, but PLEASE just let me say it again. It wasn’t until I realized that in the much bigger picture, I’m but the smallest grain of sand in a boundless desert, a minuscule pebble in a shoreless ocean, and a singular blip on life’s radar of infinite sights, sounds, echoes, and discoveries. No one can become “everything and ALL OF IT” unless they first become “nothing at all”. It’s the one great paradox in our meaningless yet profound existence that makes us truly magnificent.

Your ego wants you to win so you feel good about yourself. Yet it’s exactly the ego itself that’s sabotaging you from winning. The paradox… Killing the ego before it becomes big is a great way to sustain a happy life … because once it gets enough power, you’ll start to beat yourself up for small stuff. It’s a guaranteed way to cripple yourself.

(“Inside Out Mastery” by Mick de Boers)

For the record …

I wholeheartedly believe that every little grain of sand, every tiny pebble, and every singular blip on life’s radar is purposed and destined for something much more powerful than even the wisest mortal mind that’s existed could ever know. There’s magic in accepting and embracing our all but invisible yet infinity powerful place in “all of this”.

Sounds crazy, right? Well, then fit for me a straight-jacket and send me back to the psyche ward. My blind faith in something way more significant than me has been a concern for many. It’s not at all uncommon for people to laugh at me and my childlike beliefs. BEEN THERE! DON’T CARE! At least I know my place in all of this, and trust me when I say that it’s both pointless and powerful at once. Only time will tell the tale, so, I guess we’ll just have to see who’s laughing in the end.

I really AM just like the Sun. I’ll burn out your eyes, get under your skin, then blow out your eardrums with my words. I speak the TRUTH, damnit! So, love me or hate me, ’cause I literally just don’t care. Nothing about me is anyone else’s concern unless I allow it to be, just as NOTHING anyone thinks about me is any of mine. I’m the FIRST of me and the last of me, ’cause there’s never gonna be another one LIKE me, and I’m STILL the luckiest woman on this planet!
{“God’s Favorite Daughter“}

In the meantime, and as I said on Valentine’s Day just a couple of weeks ago:

Nevertheless, always remember that my last singular blip on this life’s radar will never truly be my last, as I, too, will travel the distance in your eyes … Interstellar … light years from you. Like a Supernova, we’ll fuse when we collide, awaking in the Light of all the stars aligned. You see, love really is the one thing that transcends time and space, and I know this with every shred of my being, because even though I cannot see Him, I feel the unyielding love and presence of the Supernova of all Supernovas … God … the one Who is always watching over me across the sky through the greatest telescope of all.
{“Supernova Telescopes“}

… but in keeping more with this Diary entry, I also say this:

So, say the word and I’ll be running back to find you. A thousand armies won’t stop me. I’ll break through. I’ll soar the endless skies for only one sight of your starlight.

That’s when you’ll realize just how truly magnificent I really was!


Stardust in you and in me. Fuse us into unity. Primeval, we’re coupled, born from the Universe. Farewell. The void is calling. Don’t fear, for futures and dreams – they’re fleeting, retreating. It’s ok, I promise. I don’t know what to say, but I’m going to want you till the stars evaporate. We’re only here for just a moment in the Light. One day it shines for us the next we’re in the night. So, say the word and I’ll be running back to find you. A thousand armies won’t stop me. I’ll break through. I’ll soar the endless skies for only one sight of your starlight. Tell me. Just tell me to stay. I’ll turn. I won’t look away. I’ll stay here. I’ll never go, but you don’t feel the same. Farewell. Farewell and Godspeed. Light years between you and me. I’m fading. Your beauty conquers the darkness. At night the Earth will rise and I’ll think of you each time I watch from distant skies. Whenever stars go down and galaxies ignite, I’ll think of you each time they wash me in their Light and fall in love with you again and I will find you. A thousand armies won’t stop me I’ll break through. I’ll soar the endless skies for only one sight of your starlight. Don’t leave me lost here forever. Show me your starlight and pull me through. Don’t leave me lost here forever. I need your starlight and pull me through. Bring me back to you. {Starset}

FEBRUARY 24, 2022: “A Message To The Moon” …

… because some cryptic tales really aren’t all that cryptic after all:

Dear Moon,
I will run alone tonight without you by my side. I guess you had a place you had to get to. I knew your eyes. I knew inside the walls you hid behind, and we saw the truth inside the real you. Because I knew you were lost when you’d run away into the same black holes and black mistakes. It’s taking all our will just to run alone. When are you coming home?
Even if the sky does fall … even if they take it all … I know there’s no pain that you wouldn’t go through, even if you had to die for us. And when all the fires were burning … when everything was overturning … there was no thing that you wouldn’t go through, even if you had to die for us.
One day the Earth will open wide, and I’ll follow you inside, ’cause the only hell I’ve known is without you. Some day when galaxies collide, we’ll be lost on different skies, then I’ll send my rocket ship to find you.
And though the Sun grew cold for you along the way and the stars didn’t align to light our way … and though you fell away and crashed back down below … I’ll always search the skies for you, and I’ll follow … I’ll be in your afterglow … and until I go back Home.
I love you, and I miss you, and even though I’m NOT really lost without you, I’m really AM lost HERE without you.
~ Sun
{Words Adapted from “Die For You” by Starset}

FEBRUARY 20, 2022: “The Chronicles Of MacHoovery” …

At this point, the Chronicles Of MacHoovery are getting kinda funny. Be it known, however, that although this Diary entry is dated February 20, 2022, because that’s when the little fucker called me yet again, I didn’t find it on my phone until a week later.

Why is that you ask? Well, my friends, “Catherine Marie” (throwing up in my own mouth) has left the building, Satan is BLOCKED and DISREGARDED, and long gone are the days that I go digging through fuckin’ trashcans. Well, wait. I take that back. Rebirthing and reinventing seemingly useless things is one of my favorite things to do, but only if that garbage is worth my time and attention.

Meanwhile …

Yah. I Jean-Claude Van Damn BET you’d enjoy visiting with me, but, umm, this living queen no longer associates herself with the devil’s spawn. So, no, THANK YOU you inglorius LITTLE bastard. You lose. I WIN!

FEBRUARY 17, 2022: “Talking To Girls” …

My son has been “on the market” for going on 15 years now if you count back to age 16, and so far there has only been one who I truly and dearly loved (and still very much do). But umm, Jean-Claude Van DAMN she was definitely NOT “the one” for him. Those two took “toxic” to a totally different level, not to mention the fact that they were both literally just kids when they met.

Now, fast forward to “here we are” fifteen long years later, and I’m sitting here literally praying that he’s finally learning how to talk to girls, because God Himself knows he didn’t always have the best examples of that. When Zack came along, he literally flipped the game board of our lives upside down for the better, “talking to girls” took on a whole different meaning, and Christian finally had a good example.

Meanwhile … THIS girl? She’s literally turning him inside out in all the best ways possible, and I’d be lying my face off if I said I wouldn’t actually kill him if he lets her get away. A mother can dream, right? I guess that only time will tell.

FEBRUARY 16, 2022: “You Can Come To MY House, Too!” …

First of all, and not that it matters, but NO, I’m not gay. I do, however, know, support, and dearly love many who are. Second of all, dare I say how ironic the powerful words I made into the image above are after having heard them spoken by one of “The Real Housewives“? Why is it that, you ask? Well, my rather non-dramatical, polar opposite of me “Mona Lisa” daughter has always laughed, if not shuddered at the fact that I even watch those shows in the first place:

Really, mother? You’re watching the NOT so real housewives AGAIN?

Meanwhile, tonight I caught this conversation between Heather “Fancy Pants” Dubrow and her daughter that reduced me to tears:

If only you knew how many times I’ve had broken children literally sobbing in my arms because their parents just can’t fuckin’ deal. It’s gross, heartbreaking, and unacceptable. Not on my watch, Jesus. NOPE!

Wait! Did I just say “fuckin'” and Jesus in the same paragraph? Why, yes. Yes, I did. Have I told you that I’m still a work in process?

Meanwhile, I’ve digressed, but sufficed to say that this momma don’t play the hate game like that, nor will she ever turn her back on a child who needs to hear these words:

I hear you.

I see you!

I accept you!


You’re SAFE here!

Did you know that the CDC says that SUICIDE is the second leading cause of death among young people, with LGBTQ youth being FOUR times more likely to seriously consider, make a plan for, attempt, or succeed at suicide than their peers? No. JUST NO!

My heart literally aches every night as I close my eyes knowing there are kids in this world who cry themselves to sleep because their very own parents are the ones driving the biggest knives through their hearts of all.

🏳️‍🌈 We all bleed red.

🏳️‍🌈 We all poop brown.

🏳️‍🌈 We all breathe air.

🏳️‍🌈 We all deserve TO LOVE and BE LOVED in ANY color!

To all you asshole parents moms who would refuse your own flesh and blood because their “color” isn’t quite working out for you, I’m kinda thinking that Hell, fire, and damnation are best left up to The Pro. I’m Jean-Claude Van DAMN sorry I’m NOT SORRY to say that I think some of you are gonna be surprised to see how it’s all gonna play out in the end. But that’s a different Diary entry for another day.

Love them as they are or they’ll end up at my house where they’re free to be, speak, feel, and express themselves without judgment, so long as they’re not hurting themselves or anyone else. I’ll be the one who gets to enjoy the miracles of their moments, not you. As parents and just human beings in general, our job isn’t to judge, it’s to love them. Love will always win, and parents who love with conditions will always lose!

If you don’t like me now, or if you’re a racist, bigot, or homophobe, get the eff out of my Diary ’cause I PROMISE I’m not the Cat for you. In case you haven’t noticed yet, I’m not here to win a popularity contestI’m here to keep it REAL! After you’ve hit that unfollow button, please do let the proverbial rainbow on the door of my otherwise Earth-toned home hit you in the ever-lovin’ ass. Finally, if you are a child whose parents don’t accept you exactly as you are, you really can come to my house, too!


A stray bullet and a momma cries – her baby won’t be coming home tonight. Sirens screaming down the avenue – just another story on the evening news, oh. Whoa! Politics and prejudice. How the hell it’d ever come to this? When everybody’s gotta pick a side? It don’t matter if you’re wrong or right, no. And so it goes, but I hold onto hope, and I won’t let go ’cause I believe you and me are sisters and brothers. And I, I believe we’re made to be here for each other. And we’ll never fall if we walk hand in hand. Put a world that seems broken together again. Yeah, I believe in the end love wins. Sometimes it takes a lot of faith to keep believing there will come a day when the tears and the sadness … the pain and the hate … the struggle … this madness … will all fade away, yeah. I, I believe you and me are sisters and brothers. And I, I believe we’re made to be here for each other. And we’ll never fall if we walk hand in hand. Put a world that seems broken together again. Yeah, I believe in the end love wins. Love is power. Love is a smile. Love reaches out. Love is the remedy. Love is the answer. Love’s an open door. Love is the only thing worth fighting for, yeah. {Carrie Underwood}

FEBRUARY 14, 2022: “Supernova Telescopes” …

Valentine’s Day 2022.

My third without him.

Yet, despite the sobering reality that his physical being is no longer “here”, I have never felt closer to every infinite piece of who and what he was and all that he left behind. My God, I couldn’t even make myself cry today if I wanted to, because the unbelievable truth is that I have never felt more loved and connected to every single part of not just him, but this Universe, as well:

All I can tell you is that my intersection with the Cosmos this morning was EVERYTHING to me. Even as I write this, I’m smiling yet again, because while on the surface it may appear that the demons that devoured him won, nothing could be farther from the truth.

{“The Tragic Truth Revisited“}

Sometimes I worry that some of you may think that my relationship with Death makes me seem pessimistic, morbid, or macabre. Nothing could be further from the truth. I love my life … the good, the bad, and the ugly, and I find it an honor to have been created to exist here.

To me, not only is Death a release from the pain and heartache that often accompanies human existence and survival, it is, indeed, “nothing at all“. Although, of course I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish that Zack’s physical body was still here with me, his essence, soul, and spirit are literally everywhere around me:

He’s out there. I hear him calling from behind the star fields. I feel him radiating energy like eternal northern lights. I see him watching over me across the sky. Overcoming, projected on my eyes eternally. I find him in the night. Far from the Sun where no one knows. He’s watching from his telescope as he travels the distance in my eyes … Interstellar … light years from me. Like a Supernova … we’ll fuse when we collide … awaking in The Light of all the stars aligned.

{“Telescope” … by Starset}

With that, let me say this to any of my loved ones who are now or ever will read this:

When that day comes that I’ve crossed to the brighter side of all this grey, rest assured knowing that I will be that zephyr blowing gently over your shoulder, just as Zack is now the ever-present breeze I feel blowing over mine. Don’t get me wrong … I’m not “planning” on going anywhere, ’cause umm, there’s still so much left for me to do here with all these little pebbles in my hand.

Nevertheless, always remember that my last singular blip on this life’s radar will never truly be my last, as I, too, will travel the distance like a Supernova until we fuse when we collide again. You see, love really is the one thing that transcends time and space. I know this with every shred of my being.

Though I can’t still see Him, I can feel not only his love, but the unyielding love and presence of the Supernova of all Supernovas … the one Who is always watching over me across the sky through the greatest telescope of all!

FEBRUARY 1, 2022: “The Bent Garage Doors Of Our Lives” …

Dear Cat:

You, my dear, are an actual frigging idiot of magnanimous proportion sometimes, but guess what? I kinda love ya anyway, ’cause the very patient man who bought you that garage door in the first place who was probably laughing his ass off when you pulled yet another “Catherine” was right when he said:

Catherine, it’s fine. It’s just a garage door. It’s just a car. It’ll be fine. It’ll get fixed.

Nothing could be further from the truth! Garage doors, dents in cars, and most of human goof ups and accidents can be fixed, and you of all people know too well that the damage that comes from some of the words that come out of peoples’ mouths in anger isn’t always so easily patched up.


… that night in the very beginning of “The Frog & The Butterfly” story when you texted him this song because you wanted desperately to know that no matter how long or how far you kept falling along with way, he’d still be there to pick you up and dust you off, and that if you got too tired to make it, he’d be your breath so you could walk? You were so scared you’d never EVER get put back together, but alas, you were, and now here you are, painted much better off as the true QUEEN he always intended for you to see when you stood in front of the mirror.

That’s the magic of unconditional love and yet another bright side in all this grey. You, my dear, were blessed to have met a human being that chose NOT to beat you up for being a living, breathing, chaos bus sometimes, so never forget to remember that when other people are driving around in chaos busses of their own! But Jean-Claude Van DAMNIT woman – LEARN HOW TO DRIVE!

~ Love, ME!


If I fall along the way, pick me up and dust me off. And if I get too tired to make it, be my breath so I can walk. If I need some other love, give me more than I can stand. And when my smile gets old and faded, wait around I’ll smile again. Shouldn’t be so complicated. Just hold me and then, just hold me again. Can you help me? I’m bent. I’m so scared that I’ll never get put back together. You’re breaking me in and this is how we will end – with you and me bent. If I couldn’t sleep, could you sleep? Could you paint me better off? Could you sympathize with my needs? I know you think I need a lot. I started out clean, but I’m jaded. Just phoning it in. Just breaking the skin. Can you help me? I’m bent. I’m so scared that I’ll never get put back together. Yah, you’re breaking me in, and this is how we will end – with you and me bent. Start bending me. It’s never enough. I feel all your pieces. Start bending me. Keep bending me until I’m completely broken in. Shouldn’t be so complicated. Just touch me and then just touch me again. Can you help me? I’m bent. I’m so scared that I’ll never get put back together. Yah, you’re breaking me in and this is how we will end – with you and me landing without understanding. Can I go there again? Can you help me? I’m bent. {Matchbox Twenty}

JANUARY 30, 2022: “Always. Keep. Fighting.” …

{The Girl Talking To Misha Is My Gia!}

Just over two and a half years ago tonight, we had just returned home and were all winding down from the “Supernatural” experience of a lifetime that Zack had gifted Gia. Little did we know that exactly two months later he’d be leaving us behind and turning our world completely upside down in the most egregious way possible after a nightmare battle with one of the most complicated cocktails of mental illness one could imagine.

What most people don’t know is that the demons that devoured his soul almost took my daughter, too, and be it not for these three literal angels on Earth, I might not have her here anymore.

We were so beyond blessed to be able to return to the “Supernatural of it all” once again over the weekend, courtesy of Gia’s dad, only this time it was even more supernatural!

Much like Gia, there are countless numbers of often “wayward” sons and daughters in this world who are hanging on every single word these literal stars in their sky speak. These boys are creating a faction of warriors who are hell bent on following their lead in all the best directions. Jared, Jensen, and Misha, or “J2M” as we say in the family biz, are using the platform their worldwide mega stardom has propelled them from to leave this place much better than they found it by “hunting mental illness”, bringing awareness to that NOT so popular monster, and making damn good and sure that the young and impressionable ears that are listening to them know they are never alone in the midst of the darkness.


The three most powerful words of both our lives, because she did … and she willALWAYS KEEP FIGHTING (just like me, her “Wonder Woman” momma)! Still, how can I ever repay these stellar men for the countless things they’ve done, the powerful messages they’ve shared, and the courageous walks they’ve walked and talked in their collective fight against depression, mental illness, and suicide awareness? How about just thank you, “J2M”, because even with all the endless words I often have, THANK YOU is all I’ve got right now. Indeed, this world is a MUCH better place with her in it, so we’ll just keep on carrying on like the phoenix queens we both truly are.

JANUARY 24, 2022: “Sometimes Ya Just Gotta Know When To SHUT UP!” …

Have you ever wondered how to spot the most truly intelligent person in the room? Well, I’ll tell ya! In my personal experience, the most intelligent people in any space are usually the ones who don’t have much to say. In fact, studies have shown that the more introverted a person is, the higher their IQ seems to be. A true intellect in a room full of people is typically just listening, digesting, and formulating their own carefully thought and not impulsive answers to any and every question that could possibly be pondered, and depending on the crowd, they may still not say a word, opting instead to keep their pearls of wisdom to themselves rather than throwing them before all the swine.


Be careful of all the bullshit you’re slinging in front of those super quiet “sleeper cell” geniuses. You never know if they’re just sitting back, sizing you up, silently calling you out on your idiocy, and laughing their own really “smart asses” off as they watch not only you hang yourself with the snake oil that you’re peddling, but all the other “not so know it all dumbasses” who are actually buying what you’re selling.

Trust me when I tell you that what I’m saying is true. Not only was I married to a “sleeper cell genius”, but I’ve given birth to two. Zack Williamson’s IQ was 147, and although they haven’t been tested, I know that both my kids are somewhere in that realm as well! I couldn’t so much as pass a cat-sized TURD of bullshit past Zack, lest I end up eating it, and my kids are the same damn way.

I’m Jean Claude Van DAMN telling you, people. Watch out for those quiet ones that don’t have much to say! When they finally do decide to engage with you in a conversation, they’ll drop a smart bomb on ya the size of the Atlantic Ocean that you’ll never see coming and won’t even have to say the words “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” to make SHUT YOU THE FUCK UP and walk away in shame! Just thought I’d share!

JANUARY 15, 2022: “The Miracles Of My Moments” …

Little does this beautiful child who doesn’t belong to me know how much her powerful words meant to me and the truly small miracle they brought to “my moment” when I received them earlier this afternoon.

Look, I may not be perfect, and I’m SO not a perfect mom – BUT – every single one of the kids who have ever graced my doorstep have done so knowing that they were seen, heard, loved, and valued for exactly WHO they are and WHERE they are without fear of judgment, disrespect, or disdain.

So many teenagers have their heads up their own clouds, and Saturdays are typically their days to just kick back, relax, check out, and think of nothing but themselves and their own moments. The mere fact that a 15-year-old girl lingering elsewhere in this world who, PS, has a STELLAR momma of her own, was thinking of me and took the time to send this message says everything I already know, but never hate to be reminded about who I AM and how much I’m “seen, loved, heard and valued”.

They say it takes a village to raise a child, and not only could I not agree more, but I’m HONORED to even BE in the village in the first place. I’m not quite sure exactly what I’ve done to deserve the abundant joy and blessings that enrich my life on a daily basis, but nope, I’m not complaining about it either.

If there really was a time machine that could take me back to some other place and time so I could start this whole story over again, would I really want to use it? NO! No I wouldn’t! I wouldn’t trade a single one of the moments I’ve gotten to have, be them good, bad, indifferent, or bittersweet for any other place and time in existence.

Even on my darkest of nights and amidst the mountains of losses I’ve suffered, at the end of each day all that really matters to me is the wonder in everyhere and now” and that I don’t want to miss a single one of them. If you’ve been around this Diary long enough, you’ve heard about the chair in my room where I’ve done a lot of panicking, praying, crying, breathing, and thinking. This little message sent me straight to it this afternoon for “breathing in and breathing out” the miracle of a moment that some people may find insignificant. Nope, not me. As I sat down in my chair and held the phone up to my chest, I felt my own heartbeat as the silly tears I was shedding softened my heart even more than I thought it could be softened. I’m telling you people – I really AM God’s favorite daughter! No one will ever be able to convince me otherwise because of moments like these and the countless treasures He’s bestowed on me with every single one of them!


It’s time for letting go of all of our “if only’s”, ’cause we don’t have a time machine. And even if we did, would we really want to use it? Would we really want to go change everything? ‘Cause we are who and where and what we are for now, and this is the only moment we can do anything about. So, breathe it in and breathe it out and listen to your heartbeat. There’s a wonder in the here and now – it’s right there in front of you. I don’t want you to miss the miracle of the moment. There’s only One who knows what’s really out there waiting in all the moments yet to be. And all we need to know is He’s out there waiting – to Him the future’s history. And He has given us a treasure called right now. And this is the only moment we can do anything about. So, breathe it in and breathe it out and listen to your heartbeat. There’s a wonder in the here and now – it’s right there in front of you. I don’t want you to miss the miracle of the moment. And if it brings you tears, then taste them as they fall and let them soften your heart. And if it brings you laughter, then throw your head back and let it go, let it go, yeah. You gotta let it go. {Steven Curtis Chapman}

JANUARY 11, 2022: “The Time Of My Life” …


I’ve been waiting for my dreams to turn into something I could believe in and looking for that magic rainbow on the horizon. I couldn’t see it until I let go, gave into love, and watched all the bitterness burn. Now I’m coming alive, body and soul, feelin’ my world start to turn. And I’ll taste every moment and live it out loud. I know this is the time – this is the time to be more than a name or a face in the crowd. I know this is the time – this is the time of my life. The time of my life. Holding onto things that vanished into the air left me in pieces. But now I’m rising from the ashes, finding my wings, and all that I needed was there all along within my reach as close as the beat of my heart. So I’ll taste every moment and live it out loud. I know this is the time – this is the time to be more than a name or a face in the crowd. I know this is the time – this is the time of my life. The time of my life.And I’m out on the edge of forever ready to run. I’m keeping my feet on the ground, my arms open wide, my face to the Sun. I’ll taste every moment and live it out loud. I know this is the time – this is the time to be more than a name or a face in the crowd. I know this is the time of my life! {David Cook}

I wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind when I first heard this song back in 2008. I was only months away from a total nervous breakdown, living a life of farce, being hunted by a dragon, and literally begging God to just wave His magic wand:

God? I need to talk to You. Or rather, I have some questions, so please just be perfectly honest. You’re not done with me, are You? Is my bright destiny just up ahead? Is it happening even as I write this? The future’s gonna be good, right? Things are gonna start getting better? Those two babies you sent need their mom to be okay so that I can help them reach their own destinies, so can’t You just wave Your magic wand?
Do You ever hear me crying, and if so, does it even bother You? And what about that “Sea Of Forgetfulness”? The one where YOU forgive and WE forget then move on about our way. It’s just not working with all these ghosts inside my head. Can’t You just make them go away? That memory of me on the front bench of that old truck? The smell of the beer on his breath? Can’t You just erase it? Or how about that boy who hit the wall and cracked his skull open? I could definitely do without THAT one. And what about the day You dropped that tiny girl in the palm of my hands JUST so I could watch her suffocate? You know? That same tiny girl who TRIED to hold my hand, but couldn’t even grasp my finger. I’m NOT loving that. It’s not working for me at all! I get it, she’s gone. I was there, don’t You know? Help me understand why I had to give her back. It’s just not natural. That’s NOT how it’s supposed to go. MOMMIES AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BURY THEIR BABIES! It’s enough. I’VE HAD ENOUGH! Please can You take this away?
Am I still Your daughter, or did You just forget me? Surely You remember how it felt to watch Your Son die? Well, I’m dying, too, and I’ve had ALL that I can handle. PLEASE won’t You help me? You’re God. You can fix anything! Are You mad at me? What did I do? Oh, wait, I think I know. Well, can’t You just forgive me for that now?
{“Away From The Sun“}

“Time Of My Life” had a much different meaning to me way back then and hearing it only crushed my spirit. I’d been aching for my hopes and dreams to turn into something I could believe in and longing for a magic rainbow. No, God couldn’t just “zap” it all away, and no, time didn’t heal my wounds. It’s what I’ve done with all the time that I’ve been blessed enough to be alive that worked the “magic”. If only I’d known that a song that once made me cry was actually foreshadowing all the bittersweet but beautiful times of my life that were then and still are yet to come, perhaps I wouldn’t have spent so many tears and hopeless prayers just waiting for “time” to mend my broken heart. You see, not only did He know things that I didn’t back then, but He also still knows things that I don’t about a future I no longer need to understand.

From the moment I was born, God has been preparing me to fly over the fires that were only ever meant to raise my wings and lead me back home to my soul. Time doesn’t even exist in the space where I dwell with Him … only unconditional love and the peaceful bliss that carries me through all the times of my life.

It’s been 6,567 days since the day she was born, and if God is the God I blindly believe He is, she’ll be waiting on the brighter side of grey with Zack when it’s time for me to finally cross over. Today is her 18th birthday, and this is her birthday basket, because even though it really was one of the hardest days of my life, it’s a day that is truly worth celebrating. The once gaping wound her footprints left across my heart has healed and is PROOF that what I’ve done with my time is “the magic”. Believe it or not, Gina Marie is one of the best parts of my story and a precious reminder of all the extraordinary things I’ve gotten to hold on to that have vanished but not left me in pieces. When I take this basket to her grave later on, I’ll keep my face to the Sun, let the shadows fall behind me, and know her death was nothing at all.

JANUARY 6, 2022: “The Tragic Truth Revisited” …

Today marks an incredibly powerful day in the Five Finger Death Punch family with the release of the official “Tragic Truth” video:

We wrote “Tragic Truth” in 2011 for the “American Capitalist” album, but it simply wasn’t finished by the manufacturing deadline. Since the song was very important to us, we didn’t want to wait and hold it until the following album, so it was added as a bonus track to the digital edition.
Consequently, it never really got the attention we intended for it and a lot of our fans are not even aware of its existence. It’s been a conversation for years to somehow circle back to this song, and we felt right now, on Ivan’s birthday, and two months from his 4th sober anniversary it is probably as good of an occasion as it can be to release this music video; as it is a visual journal of our story …
The battle with addiction … the pain … the chaos … life and even death. A celebration of a victory, Ivan’s rebirth into a new life. It is also a message for those who are battling addiction right now: you are more than your addiction, and you are never alone. Seek help, fight back, it’s never too late… Ivan came back from the dead, literally. He was so far gone, if he can do it – you can do it. Let this be a testament to that.
So, with that said, Happy Birthday Ivan! Congratulations on your new lease on life. And thank YOU to all the fans who stood by us all these years, supported us, supported him, and have been the catalyst of his recovery.
{Five Finger Death Punch YouTube}

As for me? Of the now 466 entries published in this Diary, “The Cosmic, NOT Tragic Truth” is one of my personal favorites. The cryptic role it played in my healing from and making peace with Zack’s suicide literally defies conception:

All I can tell you is that my intersection with the Cosmos this morning was EVERYTHING to me. Even as I write this, I’m smiling yet again, because while on the surface it may appear that the demons that devoured him won, nothing could be farther from the truth.
The rare few of us who really knew him and were honored to both love and be loved by him know a “truth” that is much more beautiful than tragic: HE’S HOME NOW! I just know it. No more sorrow. No more pain. No more tears. No more aching for the “family” who abandoned the “Zack Of Shit”. NO MORE VOICES SCREAMING IN HIS HEAD!
{“The Cosmic, NOT Tragic Truth“}

After seeing it the first time, I watched it over and over. The more I watched, the more I ached, and I know exactly why I was so compelled to keep torturing myself with it. It’s a catharsis I needed, so, I was emotionally cutting myself because there are clearly some feelings about the last months of his life that I’ve still yet to fully bleed out.

I cannot tell you how many times in days since he left us that I’ve had random flashes of the countless times I saw Zack literally holding his head in his hands the way that Ivan does in the video. He was desperately trying to quiet all the voices that were screaming inside his mind and fend off the demons that were devouring him. I kept asking him what was wrong, or if his head hurt, or for God’s sake why was he covering his ears that way. His response was always the same:

They keep screaming at me, Catherine. I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE THEM STOP!

I’m not gonna lie, but his sobering words in those moments and the helpless looks upon his face may haunt me for the rest of my life.

As for me? Although I’m not an alcoholic, I have suffered with and am in recovery from both a “creature” of my own and a complicated mental illness. For that reason, I made the personal decision to lead a sober lifestyle, and had my last drop of alcohol on March 26, 2021, at 4:40pm. Yes, I know the exact date and time because I have proof via a credit card charge from “The Shot Lady” in Nashville, Tennessee. My decision was made in support of not just Ivan’s “SOBER AS FUCK” journey and platform, but anyone else who is fighting that fight, not the least of which is someone very close to me who has yet to recognize his own tragic truths.

If you haven’t heard this song yet, YOU SHOULD! Especially if you or someone you love has ever struggled with an addiction or mental illness. Always remember that not everyone survives the “tragic truth” of their journey, so we must truly celebrate the lives of every phoenix who does and support them in their flight. The wings a recovery warrior flies with were forged in a fire that not everyone makes it out of alive, and some of us had to actually die first before we could live.

JANUARY 5, 2022: “Things That Matter” …

So, Cat, what do you think is worse, being terminally ill, or so poor that your almost homeless?

What’s worse than either of these awful scenarios is being fiscally “rich” under any circumstance, yet still being mentally poor. No matter the size of the roof over your head, or even a lack thereof, being mentally vanquished is often a terminal illness. This is not to say that homelessness can’t be either caused by or the catalyst of a decline in mental “wealth”. Fortunately, homelessness isn’t always permanent.

Sadly, I can think of an extremely personal example of this plight. That “poor man” I married ended up dying a KING with a roof atop his castle that most could never imagine. Even still, he left this world emotionally bankrupt and void of any fortitude or psychological well-being. At the end of the day, the wisest of us already know that while being financially wealthy can’t fix or cure anything, being mentally wealthy CAN!

JANUARY 1, 2022: “New Year. Duller Scissors.” …

It took me a literal HELL of a long time to finally figure out that one of my most self-sabotaging traits has always been the desire to carry the load for the people in my life at any cost, up to and including my own preservation. There have been far too many times that I’ve tried to protect the people I’ve cared about from the consequences of their poor choices and behaviors, when in fact what I should have been doing is letting them feel every scrape and cut from the sharp edges of those consequences so they could figure out their own survival.

For too many years to count, it was incredibly difficult for me to “love from a distance”, pray for the best outcomes, and save my precious energy for my survival. But here’s the deal folks, sometimes you have to learn to say these most IMPECCABLE words out loud, as painful as it may be to “cut them” loose:


Holy SHIT! I think I just had another epiphany after having written the word “SAVIOR” in bold letters! Is this how it feels for God to have to sit back and watch all of us scraping and cutting ourselves on the sharp edges of our poor choices and behaviors? I mean, He clearly has the power to “force” or “control” us to do anything, but instead He gives us the free will to either choose or not choose to both discover and respect His many laws and “wisdoms”. We were given the responsibility for the choices we make, up to and including any less than optimal consequences.

“Sow” this is how a person, and especially a parent, allows someone to learn the often bloody hard way that while we can indeed choose to sow whatever we want, we cannot choose what we will reap. WOW! Just when I thought I had the nuts and bolts of this thing figured out – MY MIND IS OFFICIALLY NUMB AGAIN!

My Dearest Cat:
Listen up, you divine apostrophe! No, you are NOT God, and no, you really CAN’T save people, you can ONLY love them. As selfish as it seems, you MUST continue to keep on choosing YOU, because, umm, what the hell use are you to any of us if your wings break again and you can’t keep touching that beautiful sky? So, put down everyone ELSE’S scissors and just keep shining your Light for the people in your life who need to see it, regardless of whether they even know they need it. In the meantime, when you feel helpless as you’re watching the people you love running with sharp objects, try and remember all the times God saw YOU running with scissors and how helpless He must have felt, too. If that Man has any actual hair on his head, surely YOU’RE the one who turned it grey. Yet, here you still are alive and well with scarred up cuts that are now your survival to tell. Yes, you fell down, but you’ve lived and have learned, what didn’t kill you DID make you stronger, and He HAD to let you do it. None of these seeds you’re still desperately trying to plant will take root otherwise.
Love ~ ME!

Happy New Year to all you beautiful people, and NOPE, this isn’t just another one of those cliche “resolutions”. It’s just an impeccable promise to myself not to fall apart when I see people running with scissors, not to run with scissors myself, and just keep being what I’m being: Jean Claude Van DAMN Iridescent!


Mama always told me don’t you run – don’t you run with scissors, son. You’re gonna hurt someone. Mama told me look before you leap – always think before you speak, and watch the friends you keep. Stay along the beaten path. Never listened when she said, “Sharp edges have consequences.” I guess that I had to find out for myself. Sharp edges have consequences. Now every scar is a story I can tell. Should’ve played it safer from the start – loved you like a house of cards. I let it fall apart. But all the things I couldn’t understand – I never could’ve planned – they made me who I am. Put your nose on paperbacks instead of smoking cigarettes. These years you’re never getting back. Stay along the beaten path. Never listened when she said, “Sharp edges have consequences.” I guess that I had to find out for myself. Sharp edges have consequences. Now every scar is a story I can tell. We all fall down. We live somehow. We learn what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. {Linkin’ Park}

DECEMBER 29, 2021: “Under Pressure” …

… but OMG, why does life have to be so hard, Cat?

Well I’ll tell ya!

Nothing, and I mean NOTHING extraordinary is ever born without pressure. It’s one of life’s greatest paradoxes that life gets harder when you try to make it “easier”:

Speaking up for yourself is hard, but living a voiceless life is even harder.

Standing up for yourself is hard, but being a pushover is even harder.

Erecting boundaries is hard, but becoming a fucking DOORMAT is even harder.

Losing people we love is hard, but not accepting “loss” is even harder.

Living a healthy lifestyle is hard, but the consequences of not advocating for your health are even harder.

Being alone is hard, even when you’re not “lonely”, but being surrounded by people who make you feel lonely is even harder.

Living life on your own terms is hard, but living life as a prisoner of what’s “best” for everyone else is even harder.

Being a piece of coal subjected to unfathomable pressure and temperatures for upwards of 3 billion years is hard, but not becoming the diamond you were intended to become, is an actual living tragedy.

DO THE HARD STUFF MY FRIENDS, because sometimes the easy way out can actually cost you EVERYTHING! Hmm. Now that I think of it, maybe this is why I’ve always been FASCINATED by diamonds. They’re tactile proof that behind most every beautiful thing were unspeakable amounts of pain, pressure, and toil. As it turns out, I was a fuckin’ 5 carat, D-color, FLAWLESS and PRICELESS solitaire all along, it just took me a long HOT minute to figure it out!

In closing, and as cliche as it may be, as are many of the songs I pick to go along with my Diary entries, in the words of the illustrious Freddie Mercury …

Insanity laughs under pressure. We’re breaking! Can’t we give ourselves one more chance … and love (people on streets) dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves. This is our last dance! This is our last dance! This is ourselves – under pressure.

EXACTLY! Love … no, wait! SELF LOVE and caring is the only way to keep our dance card going and our fingers, toes, and heads encrusted with the diamonds of our life! This truly is QUEEN stuff my friends. Just sayin’!