In 2020, my hosting company lost most of my blog.

It was the height of the Pandemic, and I was PISSED.

Pissed at being quarantined.

Pissed at losing a decade of work.

Pissed at the government’s handling of it all.

So, I changed hosting providers and loaded up the last backup I had of my blog. Then, I ignored it. Tom, my husband, was less than a year off of near death and a solid organ transplant. We were afraid a package from Amazon could put him back into the hospital, if the delivery driver had ‘the virus.’ I went back to caregiving for him and Tim, trying to get back into the swing of working again (I had to quit my job in 2018 when Tom got sick), and navigating a world where our leader was telling us injecting bleach may be the best remedy.

It’s been a while.

Tom is better – he’s healthier than ever, actually. Tim is doing very well, now 32 years old (!). I’m working in a job I love, and we have two grandchildren, born to our oldest during the pandemic.

I’m sorry I ghosted you. Part of it was, well, LIFE, but the other part was me not knowing what to say anymore. Tim hasn’t been a child for some time. He’s been stable for over a decade. Do I have more to tell? Can I still help other parents starting this bizarre journey?

I started a writing class in January, with the idea of trying to get back into blogging. It’s been seven months, and I think I know what to do next.

I’m writing a book. Not your standard, “it was tragic, mental illness is awful, here’s my sob story,” book. A book about the funny and crazy and stupid things that we’ve lived through in this journey of raising Tim. Some of the stories are sad, but most will make you laugh, I hope.

As I write, I’ll let you know how it’s going. For now, it’s fleshing out the first draft and finding an agent and/or a publisher (if you know one, send them my way!)

It’s nice to see you all. Thanks for coming back around. I promise I’ll fix the broken image links soon!